


The Outlandish Promise

by Ouchies



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, Some angsty, There shall be smut, anders job isnt pretty, dark and gritty is the world of Darktown, emphasis on nasty details, so expect some nasty details, the angry babies will be one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6076644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ouchies/pseuds/Ouchies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winters were ruthless in Kirkwall. More so within the sewers, where disease crippled even the strongest of men.  Sickness, death, starvation. All Fenris wanted to do was to enjoy the warmth of his own home. However an outlandish request bonded him to take on a task that would most likely end with him murdering a certain charming, witty and infuriating mage. </p><p>May the void take Hawke and her outlandish requests!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To be Thanked

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to say that this story does have their dark and gritty moments. With the setting primarily focused on the poorer parts of Kirkwall, the theme is pretty much a given. I'll be sure to put in trigger warnings in my notes before each chapter starts. I'll try not to go overboard. Please do give me some feedback. I love hearing opinions guys! Even suggestions! XD
> 
> I do tend to work in batches. So I may dump a load of chapters or just upload one by one. For now, I'm going to dump the first three chapters. 
> 
> This chapter has the following trigger warnings:  
> Archaic medicine  
> Blood  
> Amputation of a NPC.  
> Broody Elf is broody.

“I don’t understand why you request such a tedious task.” Fenris growled underneath his breath. He was pacing in front of the fireplace.

 

Behind him Hawke could be seen, wearing her mage robes. Staff was left outside the room, as usual. 

 

“Because I trust you.” It was unusual to hear the woman this… tired. The weariness just seem to be donned on today, like a wonderful winter jacket. That or… maybe it had something to do with the trip Hawke had to take.

 

Clenching his jaw, Fenris glared at the woman. The mage was serious about her request, as well as giving him space. He couldn’t help but notice the distance she place between herself and him. Maybe the weariness was not caused by the upcoming trip. Instead, the cause could simply just be… well because of him.

 

Shaking the thought out, “Certainly someone els-”

 

“Merrill would get lost before she even sets foot in his clinic. Aveline’s patrol will catch the templar’s attention. Varric is coming with me, so none of the carta would report or even check on him. And, last time I sent Isabella down to check on him, she only got sidetracked by something shiny.”

 

“She didn’t get sidetracked. She just never bothered.”

 

“Exactly why I’m asking you.” Hawke rubbed at her face. Dull blue orbs stared at the fireplace. The flames danced an eerie glow onto the woman’s features. “It takes two weeks to get to Ferelden. Then some more to get where we need to be…. Please Fenris. By the time I come back winter will already pass and I fear that Anders will be nothing more than another corpse.” 

 

Fenris’ mutter of approval of Anders’ death only added to the flames. “You remember what happened last year…”

 

Oh yes, he remembered what happened. The apostate had spent the last of his coin on the refugees that winter. So many were dropping like flies… well, more like frozen slabs of meat. Then the outbreak of the flu. It took a lot of money and effort to keep those people alive and Anders did it without a thought. Just like that. By the end of winter the man had collapse. Sickness finally reached the blonde. No one knew of his dire situation till Hawke drop by with a job. 

 

Everyone had taken turns to watch over the abomination. Made sure that he got enough rest, fluids and was kept warm. Even Fenris participate. Only because he couldn’t resist Hawke’s request.

 

Now though… It was sheer stubbornness and immaturity that had Fenris ignoring the pleas. He didn’t want to associate with the woman anymore. Not trusting himself around her, especially after that night in her estate… He was still too raw. 

 

Ironic how magic continues to fuck up his life.

 

“Fasta vass…. Fine Hawke.” With a defeated sigh, he turned away from the woman, “I’ll give you my word that I will check on the abomination.”

 

“No, you will take care of him.” The steel tone was enough for the elf to shrink back into a slave mentality. The icy glare sent his way killed any possibility of an argument. 

 

Shoulders slump in defeat, “... Fine… I will take care of him while you’re away. You have my word.”

 

Tension eased off her shoulders. Sighing softly,  “Thank you Fenris.” The elf’s ears twitched when he heard the familiar sound of robes swishing. She was moving toward him, but then stop due to hesitation. Fenris could tell that the woman wanted to say more, however decided not too. 

 

There was a grunt of a growl passing Fenris’ lips. “Is there any other outlandish requests you have for me?”

 

Fenris could feel the disappointment. “...No… Just…” there was another sigh. “Don’t kill each other and ease up on the abomination speel. It's getting tiresome.”

 

Fenris pivoted on the spot and snarled at the woman. The retort died down as he saw the woman walking off. Head hung low and her shoulders slump. It was so unlike Hawke… so unlike the woman he had grown to know this past year.

 

The trip to Ferelden was not for luxury it would seem.

 

When Fenris got the urge to check on the mage, it was a week after Hawke boarded the ship with Varric. They didn’t speak of why they were going there, other than personal business. 

 

The temperature around Kirkwall dropped at an amazing rate. His usual armor had to be modified. The cold winds were harsh and did no good for the usual leather that was worn. Instead he wore thick layers of wool underneath a more flexible, yet less durable layer of leather. The breastplate was kept the same, as well as his blade. Though, Fenris did question if he should acquire some sort of footwear. He had even saw the witch - Merrill - wear simple woven shoes. Just enough to protect her from the harsh, frozen ground.

 

Unlike the summer, Darktown didn’t smell as much as it usually would. However, it was too exposed to the natural elements. And to think, today was much milder than the usual winters. Mild that it may be, sickness was starting to make its way through the populace. Some of the elderly were seen, ready to give what they had to their families or loved ones. They knew they were the first to go, to be sacrificed. However, not all of them shared the same mentality for the fear of death made them bitter. 

 

In the end, Fenris knew they would be the first to go - along with the newborns. 

 

Passing through the shoddy tunnels, Fenris was mindful where he step. He had too many experiences of stepping onto something sharp and right down disgusting. If it weren’t for the Mage’s medical expertise, Fenris would most likely have lost a foot the first month he had set foot to this wretched place. 

 

Fenris hated that he owed the abomination a debt. Hopefully with this winter request, he can finally pay the debt back. 

 

Talking about debts being owed, Fenris saw one of the opposing gang members sulking near the clinic. There was talk that Anders had to request special supplies in order to ready himself for the upcoming season. The supplies weren’t cheap and even Varric had a hard time haggling the price. 

 

The elf made sure to make his presence known to the local gangbangers. They quickly scattered like cockroaches. There was no need to deal with cursed, glowing ‘knife-ear’ or so one of them muttered loudly. 

 

Scoffing, Fenris turned and finally entered the clinic. 

 

Just as he expected. The tiny hole in a wall shanty was filled to the brim. Everywhere, someone was in need of aid. It was almost impossible to get help without clearing out the more dire emergencies. Like the man who had to get amputated. Of course no one knew that for the body was hidden in the back. A threadbare curtain gave what little privacy to the patient. It did nothing to hide the sickening sound of a saw grinding against flesh though.

 

Well this was certainly new.

 

During the past two years, Fenris has never seen or even heard of Ander’s performing an amputation. Most would happily accept magic, thinking that it was some sort of miracle. Well, apparently today it was not. Not unless one wanted to force the miracle to happen. Course that spelt for a disaster in blood magic, or something just as sinister. 

 

Ignoring the stares, Fenris marched over to black. Passing through the pitiful excuse of a curtain, Fenris observed the scene. Anders could be seen, bone saw just a quarter into a man’s thigh. The limb was swollen to a gruesome black from the knee down. The smell was far from pleasant. This type of sickness was accompanied by decay and rot…. You’d think you were in the deep roads, fighting off corpses again. 

 

Lirene was beside the man, holding him down. Fenris was impressed that such a tiny woman could hold down a two hundred and fifty pound man. The task kept her distracted from the rude visitor. Angry mutters of telling the man to stop squirming was heard. 

 

Glancing back at Anders, Fenris didn’t look as impressive at the small woman. As a matter of fact, Fenris knew that the man worked himself to near exhaustion again. It did no good for the job. Blood functioned as slick on the saw’s handle. Without a good grip the task would get messier, longer and harder. The patient would sooner to die of blood loss than the decay of his leg. 

 

Sharp and quick, the order left Fenris’ lips. “Mage, let me assist you.”

 

The mage jump and spun around. The task forgotten in favor of staring at the elf in shock. It took only a second for Anders to beckon Fenris over. “Cut through as clean as you can, I’ll start on stopping the bleeding.”

 

The patient had passed out. Either due to the loss of blood, pain and or exhaustion, it wasn’t sure. Lirene just checked out the pulse, “He doesn’t have much longer….” was the grim truth.

 

Fenris took hold of the saw. The warrior’s skillful fingers could already feel that the blade would do no good for the operation. So, the bone saw was taken out. Anders swore loudly as an blood shot out in a thick spurts. Before anyone could say a word, Fenris grasp his sword and activated the fire rune. In one swoop the blade went through the limb; cauterizing the flesh.

 

Anders took over. The sharp pull of magic tugged at the lyrium brands. It was unpleasant but bearable. Lirene took a moment to catch her breath. They were quickly becoming idle hands. Idle hands did no good for the clinic. 

 

“Elf… erm…” The woman paused, trying to remember Fenris’ name.

 

“Fenris.” Anders’ supplied.

 

“Thank you Anders.” Lirene began and then faced Fenris. They sized each other up for a moment, “Fenris…. Think you can hand out potions and help me with the other patients?”

 

The elf glanced at Anders. He watched as the amputated leg grew skin back at an alarming rate. Pointed ears twitched, hearing the agonized moans in the humid, cramp hole. Nodding, “Show me what’s needed to be done.”

 

And just like that, Fenris was shoved into the fray of assisting Anders and Lirene. With the extra pair of hands, less stress was placed onto Anders’ shoulder. Lirene diagnosed those that she can. The critical were separated from the non critical. Lirene taught Fenris what to look for and how to treat it. Just the basics. Enough for the elf to ready and help those that weren’t at death’s door. It was a slow process, however it kept the trio busy enough that time seem to fly on by. 

 

The evening brought a cold that even rattled at the elf’s bones, causing his brands to be extra sensitive. However work was not yet finished. With the last of the patients gone for the evening, Anders, Lirene and Fenris worked on washing supplies and scrubbing the blood off of the floors and gathering soiled cloths. A few patients were sleeping in cots, hot coals set underneath the flimsy furniture to keep them warm. There was only so much warmth to go around. At least the task of cleaning kept their bodies warm enough to fight off the evening chill. 

 

When everything was finally scrubbed, organized and cleaned did the trio finally sat down and rest by a fire. Stale bread was taken out, shared between one another. Fenris was kind enough to pull out a flask and share some of his liquor. Not the best wine he could afford, but it help warm everyone up. 

 

“Fenris….” Anders said softly. 

 

Glancing up from his measly meal, a dark brow rose. “Yes Mage?”

 

“Thank you.” Was whispered out. Louder this time, “Thank you, for everything. I know we don’t see eye to eye on everything, but please know that I appreciate everything you have done today.” 

 

The smile the mage graced him was too… kind. No, that wasn’t the right word. Not even sincere could touch what it was that the mage expressed. Maybe it was what Anders said. It was just simple appreciation. Something that didn’t settle all too well within Fenris’ chest. He couldn’t describe the emotion. All that he could do was growl softly at the man.

 

“Quit it mage or else you’d ruin our reputation of being one another’s arch nemesis.”

 

Now that got a laugh from Lirene. Even more so when she caught Anders’ gobstruck express. Fenris couldn’t help but join in the laughter. Whatever the feeling was, it grew more when Anders join in. 

 

It was pleasant to know that he was appreciated. That much could be said. 


	2. Food for Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mage proves time and time again that he is infuriating and right down vexing. Yet, somehow, Fenris can't help but listening to what Anders has to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> A very prickly elf. 
> 
> Other than that, this chapter is very safe.

Over the next few days, Fenris’ presence was becoming more and more seen in the shoddy, run down clinic. Some days weren’t as bad as others. Other days were just stressful and tedious. The beginning of an outbreak was occurring. And of course it started within the foul, wretched place known as Darktown. It wasn’t surprising though. Living in the filth exposed anyone to all sorts of sickness.  

 

It wasn’t surprising when Anders was heard coughing. Living in this shithole and being exposed to so much sickness… even a warden’s stamina would falter. There was also the nagging observation that Anders wasn’t taking care of himself - yet again. 

 

The elf took his usual post in the corner of the room. The constant restlessness did him no good. Leg bouncing, brows twitching and ears flickering. Something was nagging at Fenris and he did not like it. The patients caught onto the elf’s uneasiness and chose to steer clear from the moody being. Fenris paid them no mind. He just watched as Anders wasted his precious energy on helping a sick child. The blond had resorted to wearing a face mask, hoping that he wouldn’t spread his own sickness around. 

 

The child had vomited on the mage’s coat. Of course Anders took this in stride, ceasing the mother’s babbling with kind words. Anders excused himself to fetch some medicine and to rid himself of the soiled coat.

 

The clothing was left on a table, forgotten in favor of assisting his patient.

 

Of course Fenris’ annoyance grew. He just couldn’t understand the man. Of all the little things he could remember, no mage would respond in such a manner. Most would give the child and it’s mother a slow, sickening death instead of some cure to an upset stomach. The selflessness of the abomination’s actions confused the elf more and more. 

 

On top of that, the mage look right down disgusting in that tattered, grey tunic. With a healthy side of unhealthy to add on. The man’s broad shoulders should be filled out, not pointy where bones could be outlined by the pathetic cloth. It was a miracle in itself that the mage didn’t break in half with how frail he seem to be. 

 

Daylight burned to night. The amputee came back for another overnight stay. Apparently an infection began to spread cause the man to relapse into sickness. The large refugee looked as though he lost half his weight since he was here last. Could hardly hold himself up on crutches. 

 

Anders accepted him back with open arms and a cot ready for the Fereldan. What little food the mage had was given to the man. Along with the last of his clean water. 

 

Snarling to himself, Fenris stood. His presence was not acknowledged as Anders fretted over the patient. Glancing at the soil coat, Fenris stared at it in disgust. The sour smell was becoming stronger. Something had to be done about that….

 

Fenris made his way out the door. He was mindful enough to blow out the lanterns. There would be no more patients for the night. Knowing Anders though, there should be no surprise if he accepted more. 

 

No longer within the warmth of the clinic, Fenris was more conscious of the cold than before. He couldn’t even ignore the fact that his bare feet were quickly numbing. To think that all this time he could have been in his home, basking near a warm hearth instead of out in this cold.

 

Some of Darktowns residence waved to the elf. Even greeted the man as he made his way through the tunnels. To see such happy faces caused that darn feeling to come back. It was nerve wracking as it was… calming. He couldn’t understand how it calmed him. Maybe it was because these people didn’t stare at him like some utter fascination to fear. He was not an object to these people. Instead… he was part of the community. A community that was linked to that damned selfless mage.

 

Fenris stop at the lift leading to Lowtown. IF he continued his trek, the pathway to Hightown would be easier. The image of Anders in that sodding excuse of tunic, clinging onto boney shoulders came to mind. Again with that blighted, fucken mage. Fenris swore in flurry of three language and stomp toward the lift. 

 

He was just going to go to Hangman for himself. That was the only reason to prolong his return to his squat. He could do good with a drink and a warm meal anyway. That was the sole purpose of his detour, nothing more. Maybe even interact with the saucy pirate. Get a few laughs to entertain his evening. He could certainly wouldn’t mind the pirates’ company. The pirates’ intentions were clear and easy to understand. 

 

Fenris was disappointed when he learned that the Rivaini was not at the Hangman tonight. With the absence of Varric, there wasn’t much enjoyment in staying at the pub. However, he was determined to at least order a bowl of stew and a warm lager. 

 

Fenris could not stay in the pub long. There wasn’t enough distraction to keep a certain image out of his mind. Nor the annoyance of the mage nagging at his mind. 

 

He ended up leaving the Hangman with a small, warm pot at hand and a waterskin on his belt. During his trek, Fenris was cursing at Hawke. If it wasn’t for her blighted request then he wouldn’t have been in this mess to start with. 

 

The heavy knocking caused a ruckus within the shanty in the sewers. Fenris’ sensitive ears picked up on hush whispers. Though it was the pull on his brands that told him hostility was to be met. Of course the mage would respond in such a manner.

 

“Mage, open up.”

 

Silence met Fenris’ request.

 

“Mage, I will not as-” 

 

The door pulled open, along with Fenris. The man was snarling when unwanted hands grasped at his clothing. Ready to lash out at the mage, Fenris was cut short. 

 

“Must you announce my presence so loudly!?” Anders hissed. Fenris’ shorter frame was shoved against the door. Anger was something Fenris was use too. He liked an angry Anders. That he could cope with.

 

“I wouldn’t have had too if you didn’t stall at the door with a spell.” Fenris snarled back. 

 

“Ho-why you… URGGG!” Throwing his hands up in frustration, “I have a name you sodded, blighted elf! It isn’t hard. C’mon, we’ll hold hands together and recite it. I assure you that no demon will be summoned.”

 

“Do not jest on such things Mage!” Gauntlet claws scraped along the edges of the pot, trying his hardest to not yell at the infuriating blond man. 

 

“Jest? Me? Oh no. I shall not jest, especially when one throws such words around freely.” Scoffing, the man shook his head and stalked away from the door. “Nevermind the fact that you could have brought an end to this place. To think what would happen if Templars were to come.”

 

That gave Fenris a moment to pause. The normal hot retort would have been tossed out, careless as ever. But then he thought on the people that greeted him during his stay in Darktown. Hearing the pain cough in the back was another reminder. He was careless. That carelessness would have been the end of the only hope these people have. 

 

“Kaffas…” He muttered underneath his breath. Willing his legs to move, Fenris approached the fire. Anders was seated at his desk, scribbling away at a piece of parchment. The unknown characters look nothing more but childish scribbling to Fenris. No matter how neat and beautiful the scripture was, in the end it was useless to Fenris’ eyes. 

 

Setting the cooled pot onto the table, Fenris waited. He didn’t dare speak. Makers give him strength, he wasn’t even sure how to even form the words. Anders just paid no mind to the elf, obviously ignoring the prickly presence.

 

“Ma-” Fenris stop, realizing that he depended too much on the word when addressing the man. Well, it was that or abomination. He was certain a lightening bolt was to be sent his way if he dare to utter that word.

 

Trying again, “Anders.”

 

The blond glance up, suspicion was held in those honey orbs. With a hint of curiosity sent to the pot. Fenris could not help but scratch at the lid’s rough surface. 

 

“I… I am sorry, for my carelessness. I didn’t mean to risk this…” a hand waved over, motioning to the clinic. “Sanctuary. The work you do here… it means a lot. Not only to you, but the people that live in Kirkwall. I endangered this haven and for that I am sorry.”

 

Surprised by the elf’s words, Anders just sat there and stared. Fenris was expecting a jab or some poor witty remark. Instead he got a kind smile. “Thank you Fenris… That… That was very thoughtful of you.”

 

The warrior wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or not. Either way he grunted at the response of forgiveness and pushed the pot forward. The waterskin was unhook from his belt and set heavily onto the table. 

 

“What is this?” Anders eyed the pot with much suspicion. 

 

“Food… from the Hangman.” The tips of his ears heated at the admission. Not wanting to watch the mage’s reaction, Fenris went to pull a crate up to the fire. Legs stretched out, toes wiggled at the warmth. He seriously needed to find some shoes…

 

“.... What have you done to Fenris?” A forcep was used to poke at the elf’s arm.

 

Growling at the offending piece of medical equipment, “Venhedis! Get that disgusting this away from me.” The crate was scooted farther away from the blond man.

 

“Ah, there’s the prickly elf we all know. So…” lifting the pot cover, Anders sniffed at he contents. “What’s the meaning of this? Certainly you have better things to do than to drop the Hangman’s special here.”

 

Fenris growled and huffed. Why was it always such a task to deal with the man. “It is for you. Now accept my charity before I regret this even more.”

 

There was a sigh. “Still Fenris…. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but I have to ask. Why the sudden interest in helping me? We know that this act of charity did not come out of nowhere.”

 

“Hawke put me up to it.” 

 

“Hawke you say?” Another sigh and the sounds of the pot being lifted. “Even if Hawke requested this, it still doesn’t warrant this much attention.”

 

Glaring at the flames, “Unlike you mage, I am a man of my word. I do not sway so easily when demons whisper into my ear to leave you in this rotted hole.”

 

“Why…. urgh….” Frustration was back with the all too familiar glare directed at his back. “Fine. Fine… I’ll accept your ill-worded honesty.” And like that, Anders was heard shuffling away.

 

Finally some peace. Fenris allowed himself to relax just a tad bit. He wasn’t ready to meet the cold outside. Nor the smell. Though, the clinic didn’t smell all that great either. Still, it was bearable, unlike the sewers outside. 

 

“Kenneth, can you sit up?” Anders was heard whispering to the amputated man. So, that was the stranger’s name. 

 

Turning his gaze, Fenris frowned. Instead of eating the hearty meal, Anders was feeding the stranger. It infuriated the elf to a whole new level of annoyance. The copper spent was for Anders’ own health. Not for this…. this man. 

 

While seething in his own rage, Fenris didn’t bother to get up. Anders was his own man afterall. If he wish to rot away, then so be it. He will rot away. But by the blight itself he did not like it. Something that Anders was becoming aware of when the mage came back with an empty pot. 

 

“Oh sweet maker, dare I ask what is the reason for the prickly stare.” Anders whispered, sarcasm lacing his tone.

 

“I brought the food for you too eat.” Fenris grounded out. “Not for the sick one.”

 

“Gee, for an ex-slave that rages against the abuses of controlling slave masters, you certainly have no problem in being controlling.” The insult blossomed another bout of rage. One that he was ready to unleash onto the mage. “No!” An offending finger shot forth, jabbing the elf’s nose. “Don’t you dare growl. Save it for when I’m finished.”

 

Pulling away from the offensive finger, Fenris glared. “Then speak, oh mighty Magister.” 

 

Rolling his eyes, Anders pulled his seat up. Letting his weary body drop, “Most of the citizens here in Darktown suffer from malnutrition and-” A glare was shot at Fenris when he opened his mouth to object. Snapping his jaw shut with an audible click, the elf listened. “And, the reason for Kenneth’s infection to come back is due to shoddy environment and lack of proper nutrition. As a healer I swore to sacrifice everything to ensure these people are taken care of. Do you think the chantry will come down here, passing out medicine and feeding these people? The only thing they do is hand out bread, but even that alone is scarce and doesn’t do much. So yes, whatever I have, I will give it to these people. They’re the ones that need it. Not I.”

 

The rage went away, leaving a smoldering heat of vexation. “What good will it do for these people if you die on them?” motioning to the thin cloths and bony limbs, “You care barely walk straight, let alone carry an injured man to a cot.”

 

“Hey, I’m not that weak!” The small retort was weak as the blond coughed. It only seem to drive the point deeper. 

 

Shaking his head, Fenris sighed. “Yes, you’re not weak. However, you are running yourself ragged. It does no one good and only makes tasks harder. You certainly must see the logic in that.”

 

Anders gave the elf a somber smile. One that didn’t reach his eyes. Sighing softly, “I do see the logic Fenris. Trust me, I do. However, I cannot ignore nor can I stop giving. I just take what is sufficient and that is all. That is all I can do.”

 

“But why?” Fenris tried to understand this. It was so illogical and went against so many ideals that mages held.

 

“Because it's worth it.” Anders said softly. “Just to see them smile. What kind of an unjust man would I be to leave them behind? There is already so much injustice in this land; in this city. And no, I do not speak of for the mages. I speak for all on this matter. From the racial hatred between man, elf, dwarf and qunari. All the way to a horrible social system that thrives on the broken men and women living here. That is why I do it. And… it is the result of just one selfless act. Just how much could be accomplished by doing this more often?”

 

Any retorts died. Fenris had no answer to that. 

 

Fenris went home that night with much on his mind than his belly. The mage… Anders… He was more than he seem to be. 


	3. Selfles actions could feed all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris swore up and down that he was upholding a promise. But, in all honesty, the mage's words had inspired him. But he swore to the maker that it was the promise and this was the only way to feed that stubborn mage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another safe chapter. Other than the intense feels I received from writing this. I am unsure if readers will be safe from the feels. Hopefully no one gets sappy like me. XD

The next morning Fenris entered  his cold mansion with a mission on mind. He told himself it was due to the promise he made Hawke. Figuring that tricking the mage was more of the outcome for the promise instead of what kept the elf up all night. 

 

Fenris knew that he was lying to himself and did not dare to acknowledge it. Instead he shoved a frozen door open. Hinges whined loudly in protest before stopping. The rust had prevent the door from opening anymore. Thank the maker that his stout form was small enough to squeeze through. 

 

Mold and decay assaulted his nose. Just like every other corner of the blighted mansion that wasn’t in use of his current presence. It was enough for the elf to look over the rot and decide that in order to use the room it would need a proper cleaning. Fenris was almost tempted to do that….

 

And then he saw a huge rat scurrying across the floor…. and then another.

 

The kitchen was officially out of order.

 

Sighing, Fenris pulled the door shut. Glancing about the hallway, the elf didn’t feel joy at knowing that Danarius’ things laid to rot here. It was depressing to see the shelter that could be called his home was being neglected and abused. 

 

_ “...just one selfless act. Think how much more could be accomplished!”  _ Anders’ words from last night rang through his mind. 

 

Punching the wall, Fenris had hope the pain would wash the man’s ridiculous face from his mind. The honey brown orbs, shining with so much hope, determination and admiration…. It caused Fenris’ heart to ache. An ache he could compare when looking over Hawke, but it was so much more… so much different. 

 

Fenris cursed the mage in tevene. There was no escaping that ridiculous, charming blond bastard. It was always magic! Magic was always ruining his life in way or another. It only strengthen his resolve to hate mages. 

 

As much as Fenris wish to dwell on his thoughts and do as he pleased, it didn’t necessarily solve his current problem. And that problem happened to packed away in a reasonably sized crate at his feet. And to think all the coin spent in the various items, none of them could be used to cover his feet. 

 

“Blighted mages and their stupidity.” Fenris muttered darkly as he walked off, crate in hand. 

 

He had thought to go to Lirene, possibly rope her in on his plans. But that would prove to be difficult since one, he did not know where he could find the woman. And two, he was at a loss on how to interact with the woman. It wasn’t because he disliked the woman. She was pleasant enough to be in company with. He just had trust issues. 

 

Though if there was someone he could trust, it was someone that lived in Hightown. The woman came to mind along with a smile. If anyone could help him, it certainly would be her. First though, Fenris should bundle up before wandering out into the cold.

 

Knocking onto the door, Fenris waited awkwardly. The crate was kept close to his body, trying to think about anything other than the unexpected meeting and the cold biting at his feet. Bodhan’s bearded face greeted Fenris a moment later. 

 

“Messere Fenris!” The elder dwarf exclaimed. Opening the door wider, he motioned for Fenris to come in. “I am sorry to say, but Lady Hawke is still out on her travels in Fereldan.”

 

“I am aware of that Bodhan.” Fenris said softly as he entered the home. His chest seized as so many memories and emotions came back. Taking in a shaky breath, “I was hoping to request an audience with Lady Amell.”

 

Surprise was written well on the dwarf’s features. Nodding with much enthusiasm, “But of course Messere! Please, come on. I shall go fetch Lady Amell.”

 

The dwarf disappeared into the depths of the house. Taking in another deep breath, Fenris took the moment to calm the storm of emotions swelling in his chest. He still couldn’t get over that night…. He suppose that he’d never will simply ‘get over it.’ Leaving was certainly the hardest thing he has ever done.

 

“‘Ello.” The airy greeting broke the line of thought.

 

Blinking, Fenris saw Sandal just at the foyer entrance. Gracing the young lad with a smile, “Hello Sandal. You are faring well?”

 

The boy nodded his head eagerly. “Enchantment?”

 

“No. No enchantments today Sandal.”

 

The boy’s expression drop to a pout. Fenris almost felt bad for not bringing something for the dwarf. “Don’t look defeated Sandal.” Approaching the dwarf, “I have an idea that may be in need of your expertise. What do you say to that? Hrm? A project between you and I?”

 

Sandal’s face cracked into a wide grin. Nodding away, “Enchantment!” and like that, the lad lumbered away. Most likely to find a task to occupy his time with. 

 

Fenris shook his head and chuckled. That boy was an enigma indeed. Granted, most aspects of magic tend to make the elf unease, however it was obvious that the dwarf prove to be no threat. First off, the boy was a dwarf and as many know, dwarves had no pull on magic or the fade. Second, Sandal a peaceful creature. He only acted when threatened. Or so his memory reminded him of that time in the Deep Roads. Everyone still spoken of how Sandal turned a ogre to a lovely ice statue. 

 

“Messere Fenris.” Bodhan came back, “Lady Amell will be with you shortly. Will you want anything? A drink? Or a seat by the fire?”

 

“No need to be so polite Bodhan.” Fenris rumbled as he approached the dwarf. “Your hospitality is most gracious, even to a man such as myself.”

 

“Nonsense.” Bodhan exclaimed. Waving his hand, “As companion and a friend to Serah Hawke, you will receive nothing more but the most outstanding hospitality here. Mark my words on that!”

 

It was hard to not smile at that. “Fine, fine. I shall take a seat by the fire then.” 

 

That was how Leandra found Fenris. Seated by the fire and crate at hand. The elderly woman’s presence spoke in volumes of curiosity. It was very rare to see Fenris at the Hawke estate now a days. 

 

“Fenris, its so good to see you. I fear I’d almost forgotten your face.”

 

Fenris couldn’t help but chuckle. Standing, “I highly doubt one could forget my face so easily.”

 

Standing in front of the elf, Leandra was mindful to not invade Fenris’ personal space. The elf had always respected the woman so much because she was so thoughtful of the little things. “So you say, Serah.” the woman laughed softly and then smiled. “Now, I know you didn’t come to our little corner of hightown to speak of your looks. There must certainly be a purpose of the visit.”

 

Nodding, “Yes, there is. I wish to inquire for some assistance.” Motioning to the crate in his arms, “With the weather worsening, many of the Fereldan refugees have little in a way to ward off sickness. Currently my kitchen is in such a sorry state that the Grey Wardens may have thought of it as the source of a blight and…”

 

Leandra laughed at the dry jest. Nodding her head and motioning him to follow. “How could I refuse you help for such a noble deed. Say no more, Come, you may have free rein in the kitchen.”

 

All Fenris could do was follow along with an eager smile. 

 

The pair chatted softly as they worked on a large pot of soup and many, many loaves of bread. So much was said and done. Various topics touched and expressed. Though, due to silent agreement they avoided certain topics. One of such was Leandra's late husband. That was not to be spoken of. In turn the elderly woman did not question Fenris’ feelings for her daughter. Due to experience and wisdom that age could only give, she respected the man’s decision. Though, they did speak fondly of Bethany. It was obvious that Leandra still mourned for her daughter and son. 

 

Noon turned into dusk by the time they were finished. Sacks were packed with freshly baked bread and what few bowls Leandra was able to spare. The stock pot was a burden to carry across the kitchen. Bodhan had insisted that he help. With some reluctance Fenris accepted. The Hawke household already help so much that he didn’t wish to abuse their hospitality. 

 

Before Bodhan and Fenris venture off for their quest, Leandra stop them. Opening the bag filled with warm bread, “An extra treat for the trip.” And a simple paper bag was slip in. 

 

The smell of apples tickled at Fenris’ nose. He couldn’t help but smile once more at the kind gesture. Hawke’s mother was one of the very few human beings that were too important to him. He couldn’t deny the woman a hug. “Thank you, Leandra.”

 

“Oh hush you. You deserve them as much as anyone else.” and then started to shoo them away before the food grew cold.

 

The teck into darktown was a quiet one. Which was surprising. Most would jump at the chance to attack anyone that held this much food. Though, it seem wit overruled recklessness when anyone saw the elf. Food be damned if anyone wish to battle the cursed elf. 

 

Another crowd had occupied the clinic. Bodhan couldn’t help but comment that Fenris was a blessing sent from Andraste. Fenris couldn’t help but shake his head and muttered, “I am only just a man keeping his word.”

 

Many hungry eyes followed the elf as he marched into the clinic, giant stock pot held at the handles. Bodhan commented that they should greet Anders, however Fenris shook his head. Setting the giant pot on a crate, he motioned for Bodhan to lay the rest of the supplies near by. 

 

Lirene was seen, approaching the elf with a mixture of confusion and… hope? “Fenris, what is the meaning of this?”

 

Smirking at the woman, “A way to get that blighted mage to eat.” was uttered. Confusion was met before realization of the plan. It was sneaky but honorable. Lirene couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Smiling, Fenris looked over the anxious crowd. There were some stranglers that followed along since his trek into the sewers. There was so many people. Elves, dwarves, humans. Mothers and fathers. Hardworking men to the crippled. Everyone stared at him with so much hope… It was simply overwhelming. 

 

Taking in a steady breath, Fenris calmed his nerves.  Using a armor plated hand, it clanged loudly against the pot. 

 

“Those who are well enough to spread word, let all of Darktown know that tonight, you will be fed. There will be one serving of soup and a slice of bread waiting here for those that are in need. The injured first. Women, children and elderly second. Everyone else after. If there is anyone in assistance of getting food, please let myself or Lirene know and we will see what can be done for them.” Fenris paused, letting the information sink on. 

 

There was a rush of murmurs as the crowd stared in shock. It didn’t take long before they cheers of thanks erupted. Fenris had to clang at the pot to get their attention. He was yet to be finished. 

 

“Please, be patient and remember that I only have enough for one ladle a person. And for the safety of our prestiged healer, please keep this discrete. For the sanctuary and those that are healing, we wish to keep this a safe place for everyone.”

 

The rest of that evening was a blurr. Fenris had underestimated the crowd. He even feared that he wouldn’t have enough in the end of it all. Each and every person had thanked him. Most cried, some tried to hug him. Thankfully Anders intervened, explaining that the prickly elf would most likely injure anyone that dare to touch him. Which, was almost the truth. When the children ignored the warnings, only to latch onto the elf’s legs, it took a lot of self control to not throw them across the room. 

 

Families were laughing. Strangers were talking. Even bitter rivalries were put aside for the evening. It was amazing to watch everyone gather. How quick their dead eyes lit up. They no longer appeared to be the shadows of who they were. Instead they look to be the people they were and always will be, despite the harsh world they lived in. 

 

There was a moment when Fenris had asked Lirene to take over. The crowd was so overwhelming that the elf had to hide in the back. Just enough to sort through the rush of emotions before it turned into annoyance and anger. Once he manage to clear his mind and understand the emotions he felt, he just couldn’t stop smiling. 

 

He smiled when returning to his post. He smiled when handing out another ladle of rich broth. He smiled when the various faces thanked him. He smiled when knowing those that needed food received it. He smiled at Anders, finally understanding what it was that drove the man to do what he did. 

 

A single act of selflessness accomplished so much that night. It filled him with such purpose to know that he had done this. He finally felt… free.


	4. Sweet Risks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is trying to enjoy his apples. Anders tries to understand the purpose of Fenris' kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no trigger warnings.
> 
> I can't seem to stop writing. D=

At the end of the night there was enough soup left for Anders. Bodhan had left long after the little ‘party’ started. The rest of the clinic was empty, save for Lirene and the two men. Glancing over the clinic, Fenris can’t seem to shrug off the warmth in his chest. At least he ceased his smiling. Cheeks were still sore.

 

Shaking his head, Fenris glanced over at Lirene. He recalled that the woman had two boys and a husband. Most likely watching over the shop while she help Anders. Glancing at the bag of apples hidden in one of the sacks, he debated if it was worth it. He counted ten, round, red, juicy orbs. He could spare a few, why not. 

 

Wrapping up some bread with the fruit, Fenris approached the woman. “Lirene.”

 

Glancing up from her task of cleaning, “Yes?” 

 

Handing her the small package, “It's not much, but I assume your boys will enjoy it.”

 

Taking the package, Lirene gasped in shock. Letting out a soft chuckle, “... You know, I wouldn’t have guess you were this… kind.” glancing up at the man. “Thank you Fenris. Truly, you are a gift from the Maker. What you’ve done today and…” she stop and smiled. “Thank you Fenris.”

 

The elf grunted and glanced away. Now that the events of the evening had dwindled down, embarrassment was starting to creep up. “It was nothing…” Humble as ever, the rough elf tried to make it seem like it was no big deal.

 

“Nothing?” Anders was heard approaching. Peering into the small package in Lirene’s hands. “This isn’t nothing Fenris… I have to side with Lirene on this. You did so much and now you’re handing out your favorite food?”

 

How did the mage known about that? He couldn’t help but frown at the thought. Huffing, “I still have six more at my disposal.”

 

That got a chuckle out of the pair. 

 

“Fine. I’ll go back to calling you a Jerkface next time we see each other. Would that make you feel better, Fenris?” Lirene asked in jest.

 

Fenris actually took a moment to consider the request. He gave a nonchalant shrug before smirking. “Who am I to tell you otherwise?”

 

That got a laugh out of the woman. 

 

Lirene had stuck around for a few more minutes, just to go over the last of the stock with Anders. She also thanked Fenris - repeatedly. He was quickly getting tired of all the thanks and barked at the woman to return to her family at once. This cause Anders to laugh, teasing Fenris mercilessly for the past fifteen minutes.

 

“Vishante kaffas! Mage, cease your blithering giggling this once!” Fenris barked. He could feel the blush permanently stained a streak from ear tip to ear tip. 

 

Calming down his laughter, Anders glanced at the elf. Fenris could see that the man tried to his best to hold the laughter. However there was only so much control Anders had each time he glanced at the elf. 

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, but oh sweet Maker… Oh my…” Between gasps of breath, Anders puffed out his chest. “Woman, home! Go home! Rawr.” It was a horrible caveman impression. 

 

No longer amused by the blonde's antics, Fenris reached for one of the many rolls of bread and proceeded to shove it into the mage’s mouth. That got the man to shut up finally. Not to mention choke on the food. Now it was Fenris’ turn to guffaw.

 

“That’s not funny elf! You could have seriously hurt me.” Anders pouted, before regarding the piece of bread.

 

Scoffing at the statement, “The only one that could harm you is your negligence to take care of yourself.” grabbing the ladle and a bowl, Fenris poured the last of the small. It was cold, however the warrior knew that wouldn’t be a problem for Anders. 

 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Anders asked as he watched the elf. Once more Fenris had surprised Anders. This much kindness… certainly there was a purpose for this. Or so that was the impression Fenris got. The blond was too much of an open book. 

 

“It is the only way I can keep my promise to Hawke.” Fenris began as he held the bowl out to the mage. “So, if I must feed the whole populace of Darktown for you, then so be it.” 

 

A smile slowly grew on the man’s unshaven face. The blush was returning, causing Fenris’ ears to flicker. He was afraid that the mage would return to his teasing ways once more, however that did not happen. Instead the man took the bowl and whispered with such fondness, “Thank you Fenris.” 

 

Scoffing, the elf turned sharply. Retrieving his gift, Fenris shoved a delicious red orb into his mouth. He didn’t want to acknowledge the feeling in his chest. Nor did he want to think on the urge to seek out that fondness again. All he wanted was to enjoy his apples. 

 

They tasted sweeter than any apple he had before. Fenris couldn’t help but give the apple a pensive look.

 

“Surely the fruit couldn’t have offended you that much.” Anders was still smiling at Fenris. The fondness was still present; mingled in with a very laxed expression. It looked very good on Anders. The image of him being relaxed and at peace. The blond didn’t look as exhausted tonight. If anything, he was appeared more charming and handsome. 

 

Fenris had to remind himself that Anders was a mage and an abomination. 

 

Settling down onto a crate, “No…” Another bite of the fruit. It tasted better with every bite. “It just…. tastes better.”

 

Anders nodded slowly, sipping away at the soup. Fenris couldn’t help but frown. The soup didn’t appear to be hot. 

 

Kicking at the man’s leg, Anders yelp in pain. “Why haven’t you warmed the soup?”

 

Scowling at the elf, “You didn’t have to kick me.” sighing softly, Anders muttered underneath his breath. Elongated ears twitched, trying to catch the words. 

 

Fenris kicked the man again. 

 

“Ouch! Stop that, you blighted elf!” Anders snarled and then sighed. Fenris was ready to kick him again. Catching onto that quick, “I just didn’t want to ruin you uncomfortable.” was blurted out.

 

Fenris had to pause at that note. It was… surprisingly thoughtful of the mage. Still, no matter how thoughtful, Fenris kicked at the mage in annoyance. Flubbering over words, Anders screamed in frustration at Fenris for doing that. 

 

Smirking openly. “You’re a fool Mage. Now heat up your food and enjoy it.”

 

“Bossy.” was muttered darkly. The pull of magic was felt, however not as harsh as it usually was. Which was odd as it was frightening. 

 

“I am determined to uphold my promise.” 

 

Shaking his head, Anders place the bowl down. “Is this…. all because of that promise?” 

 

Fenris was confused by the tone. He couldn’t really place the tone. It caused uncertainty to creep into his mind. Though he ignore it and kept a direct approach. “Yes.”

 

“So…. I take it that this promise will be fulfilled when Hawke returns?” Anders didn’t dare to look the elf in the eye now. Instead he concentrated on stirring the broth. 

 

“Yes.” frowning, “What is the meaning of these questions Mage?”

 

Anders gave a dry laugh. Ladling soup to his mouth, “No reason. Just trying to understand your motive is all. Almost thought that you finally turned a new leaf and we would become good friends. Maybe even persuade you into helping my great cause.” 

 

Fenris groaned. Ah yes, his good mood was now soured. Of course the mage would mention his quest. The plight to free all mages. Release them from horrors known as Templars. No longer abused by their jailers. 

 

Fenris scoffed, wishing that he had a drink instead of an apple to comfort him now.

 

“Ah, I guess I got my hopes up after all.” Anders stated with much cheekiness. 

 

“Enough.” Fenris grounded out. “I will not sit here and listen to you babble on about your plight. Certainly you must understand the risks are far too great to allow all magi to run loose among our world.”

 

“Risk? Of course there’s a risk! Everything is a risk Fenris. Taking in these people, everyday, is a risk. Walking down a road is a risk. Enjoying a meal is a risk. If we took every risk at face value, then what's the point of living? What the point of being free?” Anders cried, obviously desperate to convince the Elf. More so now than ever before. 

 

And that disturbed Fenris further.

 

Disturbed him so much that the apple was crushed in his hands. Keeping a calm facade, “Do not push me Mage. You do not get to question my freedom. Nor do you get to command how I feel on the topic. Hope all you want, but in the end you only show yourself to be as selfish as the Magester’s of Tevinter. And any other mage that so desperately wants to abuse their power.”

 

Anders sat there, staring at the elf. Defeat almost settled onto those thin, fragile shoulders. “Do you really believe that all magi are like that? Believe them all to be what? Monsters?”

 

Fenris took a moment to consider the words. He briefly recalled the Chantry’s teachings. Remembering that the Chantry was there to balance the right from the wrong. Fenris stared into Anders’ searching eyes. The usual warm, honey brown orbs were harsh and glossy. 

 

Did he truly believed that?

 

“.... Only the weak ones.” Fenris said softly. 

 

Something shifted in Anders’ eyes. It wasn’t hope or some simple minded excitement. It was more pensive as it was a realization. It was as though an error was seen. Possibly a lapse of misjudgment. Who knew. For now, Fenris did not wish to dwell on it.

 

Standing, Fenris began to collect his things. The conversation had ended and would most likely be picked up another day. For now though, Fenris was tired. “I will come back for the pot and such another day, if that is fine with you Ma…” there was a pause. “If that is fine with you Anders.” 

 

Anders expression shifted to respect. After all of this, the mage had finally respected Fenris. The uneasy warmth settled into the elf’s chest once more. 

 

“That is fine with me.” Anders spoke softly. “When will I see you again? For when the refugees ask.” Anders hastily added.

 

Thinking a moment, “.... I am…. uncertain. It will have to depend on….”

 

“Depend on….?”

 

“If our charitable Guard Captain has any work.” 

 

Fenris left with the Anders’ warm laughter ringing in his ears. 


	5. To the Void with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is left to entertain the girls at the Hanged Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vulgar language, alcohol.

“Green, with silver linings of lace.”

 

“Lace?”

 

“Yesssssss. Lace. You look like a lacey sort of elf. What do you think Kitten?”

 

“I think I enjoy Fenris’ recommendation….. What was it that you called this?”

 

“Mead”

 

“I like mead.”

 

“Yes, but think, lace on Fenris’ bottom.”

 

“Bottom? Why would Fenris wear lace? Walking on lace isn't a good idea.”

 

“Oh dear…”

 

“Oh no, I did it again, didn’t I?”

 

It was just another normal conversation in the Hanged Man. Most of the usual partons have stayed home. Most of the partons, not all. Those that did not wish to freeze in their hovels could be seen loitering about. Drinking, yelling and keeping warm with liquor. Thus how Fenris happened to be in the company of the two odd women. 

 

Nursing the glass of wine, the elf smiled. The only time of year for the Hangman seemed to have good wine was during winter. It was the only time that notorious pub would hold such a heavy, rich bodied wine. Much better than the watered down sweet piss that was normally served. Savoring the taste and smell for a moment, Fenris let out a soft humm.

 

Across from him, Isabela could be seen playing with Merrill’s pointed ears. The small Dalish blushed, leaning into the touches. Fenris was amused that the young witch would allow such a pleasure to be exploited. He couldn’t help but flick his ears in jealousy. Hawke use to do that to his ears.... 

 

Catching onto the gaze, Isabela could be seen smirking. “So, if not lace…. maybe I can touch those pretty ears of yours instead?”

 

Thick, dark brow rose. “Try it pirate and I’ll assure you that I’ll bite those fingers off.”

 

Purring, “Ooohhhh, Fenris, you certainly know how to turn on a woman.”

 

Merrill could be heard giggling behind a mug. “Sounds horrible. Biting off fingers….” and the giggling continued. 

 

“Have you seen Fenris’ teeth Kitten? You must have dreamed of them on your precious, sweet flesh.” 

 

“Oh Maker give me strength.” Was muttered underneath his breath. “Where is Sebastian when you need that blighted fool.”

 

“Doesn’t Sebastian wear Andraste on his belt?” was the drunk question. “Quite the annoyance for the Andraste to deal with. A pack, pounding at the back of her skull. Would that explain why his armor is so shiney? A beaconed call for help?”

 

Isabela and Fenris paused, staring at the small Dalish. The witch just finished off her mug, pouting away at the bottom. The start of the laughter came in small tremors that eventually erupted into a drunken roar. Isabela slump on the table, repeated the words while Fenris just clenched his stomach. 

 

“To the void with you two!” His gruff tone barked out between chuckles. “To the blighted fucken void!”

 

Merrill just stared at Fenris with wide eyes. The shocked smile spread, “Isabela, has Fenris drank too much wine or is this real? Oh dear, I believe he had too much wine. Usually the cussing comes out so much when he drinks.”

 

Isabela giggled, playing with the blood mage’s hair. “Oh, it is very much real. But for our dear, brooding elf’s sake, we shall say that it is the wine’s doing.” 

 

Fenris swore at the women in Tevene, which of course got another course of chortle out of them. 

 

Fenris had to question their relationship. He knew they were close and enjoyed each other's company… however, Isabela’s fingers wrote another story. The man couldn’t help but smirk behind his cup. 

 

“I said it before and I’ll say it again, may th-”

 

“Sebastian grace us with his shiny armor?” Merrill rang out.

 

“-void take yo… Oh bloody blight.” Shaking his head Fenris facepalmed. 

 

Isabela’s howled laughter did not cease. 

 

What an odd night Fenris had to deal with. He honestly did not expect enjoying the company of these two ladies. The fact that he was enjoying both of their presences was surprising. Then to create a bond with them? That was something. Even with the smallest mage. That he could admit - to himself. Only to himself. 

 

Of course the wine did help ease his mood. There was no doubt to that. Normally he got chatty when he had a few nice warm glasses. But now, with that beautiful pirate teasing them and Merrill’s witty replies, it seem to make a humorous combination. Something Fenris enjoyed dearly.

 

“So… Fenris…” Merrill had came back with a fresh drink for herself and Isabel. 

 

Taken out from his daze state, the warrior frowned at the mage. He didn’t like the light tone she gave him. Though, he lessened his glare. He didn’t want the mood to be ruined. He just hope that it won’t be ruined. Merely grunted at Merrill indicating that she had his attention. 

 

“Some of the Elvhen refugees speak of how you’ve help Anders and even went as far as to feeding most of Darktown the other week. I..” she paused, noting Fenris’ darkening expression. “I was curious what brought this on.”

 

“Oh yesssss.” Isabela rang. “A lot of the poor have been whispering about the Glowing One’s charity.”

 

Fenris frowned. “You mean the Cursed Knife Ear?” and spat in disgust. He hated the name that the citizen’s of Kirkwall have whispered. 

 

“I will not acknowledge that slur.” Isabela huffed. 

 

Fenris hummed softly, considering Isabela’s words. That woman can be a mystery at times, but… she was a good one. Shaking his head, Fenris returned to Merrill’s inquiries. “I made a promise to Hawke before she left.” 

 

“Oh? Did you finally agree to get along with Anders then?” Merrill questioned with the utmost sincerity. 

 

Fenris barked a harsh laugh. It cause the Merrill to jump. She had not expected that response. Shaking his head, “No. No, no no. Nothing like that. She just nagged at me to take care of that annoyance till she came back.”

 

Confusion dawn onto the Dalish’s features. Even Isabela watched Fenris with much curiosity. “But… you fed all of Darktown for a night….”

 

Sighing at the wine, Fenris slowly shook his head. “Has Anders ever listened to our barking about eating?”

 

Isabela whispered, ‘He said An-’ and a pull of lyrium was felt when the Riviani yelped softly. Merrill just ignored the glares as she continued her inquiries. “No, but what does tha…. Oh. OH! Oh my! That is pure genius!”

 

“I think you’re giving Broody too much credit there.” Isabela teasing grin was directed at Fenris. 

 

“Surprisingly it isn’t this magnificent body of mines that kept me alive this long, Isabela.” Fenris drawled out, ignoring the girl’s giggling. 

 

Pausing the elf had to look over the cup of wine. He muttered a soft, “too much wine….” knocking back the glass, a tattooed hands reached for the bottle. Waste not, want not.

 

“Oh, look. Its Aveline.” Merrill chirped.

 

Indeed, it was Aveline. The captain of the guards herself! Wearing her glorious armor and wooly cap. It was a funny looking thing. It didn’t really suit her head all that well, just kind of… flopped to the side. It really was an awful thing. Fenris knew that Hawke had made it for woman, back when they first came to Kirkwall. Most likely got creative during their time to pay off debt. No one dare to say shit about that hat. Last time that happened, Aveline threw Isabela into a cell. 

 

But seriously, it was a shitty looking hat.

 

The redhead approached the group, not once batting an eye at the drunks leery calls. “There you are.” 

 

“Oh my.” Isabela began. “Man hands has come for me? Oh dear. Fenris, quick, save me. Only your larger hands could battle off Captain Manly Hands here.”

 

“Larger hands?” Fenris raised a brow and looked over his hands. He grasped the wine bottle neck, admiring how it covered the length of the neck and some more. “Surely you jest Riviani. My hands are not that large.”

 

Merrill extended her small hands toward Fenris. “By the dread wolf! I never noticed how large your hands are!”

 

“You know what they say about big hands, right Kitten?” 

 

“Um… No. I do not know what they say about big hands. Aveline, do you know what they say about big hands?”

 

Aveline was not amused by this. Pinching the bridge of her nose, “Of course the whore would start such a topic….”

 

“I have to wonder.” Isabella traced the rim of her own glass. The mischievous gleam in her eye was directed at Aveline. “Since you have such large hands, do you carry a bit of extra weight betwee-”

 

“You will stop that sentence or else I’ll toss you into the brig!” Aveline was really not amused by this.

 

Fenris ignored the bantering and grabby hands. When Merrill began her pitiful pouting did the warrior sigh. Extending a hand, he allowed the witch to touch him. He didn’t bother to hide the look of disgust. It didn’t take much before Merrill was cooing. Of course Fenris had pulled away, not wanting to endure the attention anymore.

 

“Most men in my clan don’t have such large hands. They’re almost as big as Varric’s.” Isabela giggled at Merrill’s antics and whispered dirty things into the blood mage’s ears. That certainly got a healthy blush on the tip of those ears. 

 

“Fenris.” 

 

Aveline’s tone caught his attention. Glancing up at the woman, “Aveline, I assume you came here for business and not…” he trailed off, motioning toward the whispering girls.

 

That got a rueful chuckle. “Ah, you know me too well Fenris. I have a job if you’re still interested in making some coin.”

 

“Say no more.” Fenris stood, taking a moment to not sway. Oh yes, he had too much wine. Moss green eyes looked over the number of bottles he had. Ignoring the pull of liquor in his system, “What shall become of tonight?”

 

Aveline sighed deeply and waved Norah over, requesting for a pitcher of water. “A tip was given to me that an interesting shipment would be smuggled in through the docks. If it rings true, the viscount will happily reward those that assist the guard in this matter.”

 

“And if it does not?”

 

“I’ll just get find someone else who will do the dirty work. I’m certain there would be someone that will accept a few bits.”

 

Fenris rolled his eyes with a smirk. “How much is the reward?”

 

“A sovereign, if this runs smoothly.”

 

A pitcher of water was set and Fenris made quick work to get a few glasses in him. As this occurred, Isabela complained. “You’re taking away the entertainment Man-Hands.”

 

“I don’t think Fenris could be described as entertainment. He’s normally so broody. You’d think a storm cloud would appear suddenly.” Merrill commented. 

 

“Keep that up and you both will not get any coin tonight.”

 

“Oh? My, my Fenris. You are being very generous.” Isabela purred; bouncing on her feet. 

 

Aveline and Fenris shared a look. “Of course, free labor does seem rather profitable. What do you think Aveline?”

 

Smirking, “I’d be more worried that the whore will stab you for the coin instead.”

 

“Hey! I’m very honorable, I’ll let you know.” The riviani exclaimed, hands on hips. “And Fenris, really? I didn’t take you for a slave driver.” 

 

Fenris huffed at the joke. He didn’t like being described as such, however it was Isabela. She made jest on all topics, even herself at times. So with a rueful smirk, “When you make it sound like that, how can I possibly not feel guilty. Would you feel better if we resume the game of guessing my underclothes instead?”

 

“Do I get to see them at least?”

 

“Only if you guess right.”

 

“And like that I am sold like a proper Kirkwall citizen.”

 

Aveline groaned loudly. Without a thought, she snatched Fenris’ bottle of wine. Two large gulps and a healthy cough. “I can’t deal with you all sober.”

 

“Does this mean I don’t have to sober up?” Merrill asked.

 

The group couldn’t help but share a laugh at that one. 

 


	6. Together we shall slaughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party confronts a band of thugs. Blood is drawn. As well as Fenris' overwhelming hatred for fish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not too happy with the chapter. I may go back to it at a later date. Before I start with the trigger warnings, I want to thank everyone for the comments and kudos! xD I didn't think this story would roll off so well. Thank you everyone! ^_^
> 
> Trigger warnings:  
> Excessive violence.  
> Blood.  
> My horrible writing on action scenes.

Lowtown could only be described as cold at night. Seriously. It was just cold. That’s it. The docks however were not cold. There was no way to describe how the docks felt like with one word. The only thing that anyone could say was that it was a frost bitten kingdom sent from the void. It certainly stop the usual Raiders and Carta thugs from robbing folks.

 

At least the job was worth some good money. Good money that Fenris had to split. Why was he so generous with this job? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was becoming very hard to walk straight. It was totally due to the lack of proper footwear. Not the wine. Just the footwear. Fenris kept telling himself this as he glared venomously at Merrill’s choice of footwear.

 

Passing the Quinari camp, Fenris felt eyes on his back. There was no point in looking. He knew that there was a bolter, watching from the shadows. 

 

Aveline lead the way, being careful where she tread so that her armor didn't clank too loudly. Merrill trailed along, just a few steps behind. Isabela just moved along with the shadows, trailing from behind… or ahead. It was hard to track the Riviani, unless it was by scent. Fenris kept to the back though, keeping watch just in case. However, something about this scene was just… off. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Fenris was use to a certain brunette’s head up front, not the faint glow of red. 

 

The thought of the tough, witty Mage came to mind. Of course he couldn’t help but smile fondly at thought of Hawke. Knowing that woman, she’d most likely chat up a storm with the girls. Not once caring for the danger that may lurk on these docks. Would gladly accept it with open arms, or an arc of lightning.

 

“Are you smiling?” Isabela teased. “No more brooding?”

 

Scoffing, “I assure you that I will forever brood, no matter what expression my face happens to be stuck on.”

 

Isabela could be heard giggling as she skipped ahead. They were nearing their destination point. Due to custom, the warriors and mage held position. Waited for the rouge to come back with scouting details. As they waited, Fenris stared at the small warehouse. It was packed away in the farthest corner of the docks. The smell of fish tickled at the elf’s nose.

 

He hated fish. 

 

“No guards.” Isabela appeared out of nowhere; causing Aveline to gasp softly. The elves just gave the pirate their attention. “Are you sure this is this place, Guardswoman?”

 

“Yes. I’m certain…” Aveline frowned some and then watched the waters. “Have you seen any ships docked?”

 

Isabela pursed her lips; nodding. “I assume there is, but I couldn’t get a look unless I fancied a dip into icicle lake there.”

 

Aveline nodded and then looked over the group. “Alright. I go first, Fenris and Merrill behind me and Isabela takes the rear. On guard, but remember, don’t attack unless provoked.”

 

“Mmmm. You’re already provoking me with that big shield…”

“Shut up whore.”

 

They check on their gear, potions and weapons one more time. They were unprepared, but they can improvise. Nothing they hadn’t done before. Fenris just had to endure the smell of fish. Approaching the door revealed that it was lock. Nothing Isabela had no problem getting through. 

 

The stench was strong in the small, cramp opening. Barrels and barrels of fish were laid out. It was clever. A front that would get any lazy guard to look away. Sadly, this warehouse got Aveline tonight. There was no lazy doings tonight.

 

The guardswoman marched on in, making sure that her armor was heard. The ominous sound seem to spook something as a tell tale sound of something heavy was drop. Whatever it was, it was hidden behind a door. The guardswoman just smirked and made her way toward the door. “City Guard! We are inspecting the premises on the order of the Viscount.” she boomed. 

 

The sounds of blades being unsheathed was heard.

 

There was a pause as the group glanced between one each other. They already knew what this meant. The same old bullshit before unnecessary slaughter. However, they didn’t unsheath their own weapons just yet. They’ll give whoever the benefit of the doubt.

 

Shield held up, Aveline counted to three and opened the door. An assaultants blade connected with the shield. With a war cry, Aveline pushed forward. The shield bashed into the thug’s face, caving it in.

 

Further inside, thugs could be seen coming forward. The dock held a single boat. Cargo was obviously being moved. Though at the moment it didn’t matter when there was about ten criminals, armed with blades. More could be seen on the upper levels, armed with bows and arrows. 

 

Fenris threw himself into the fray; lyrium lightning up like a beacon of death. He was barely aware of the others as they battled their enemies. The giant sword spun effortlessly in his grasp, sending two men back into barrels. Fish had poured out, washing the floors with its disgusting slime. Fenris glared at his exposed his fish.

 

“.... I hate fish….” was muttered. 

 

The men had gotten up, stumbling over the fish. They glanced at eachother and then the very angry glowy elf. Their blades shattered against the mighty blow Fenris delivered.  They weren’t given a time to regain their senses before the greatsword slashed through the flesh. They were down, bleeding out.

 

Arrows whizzed overhead. Bringing the sword up, an arrow was deflected. He saw Aveline spearing through a woman’s spine. Merrill’s primal magic wrapped itself around another thug, holding them still while Isabela buried a blade in the back of their head. On the second level archers were seen aiming at the Guard Captain.

 

“Aveline!” Fenris roared, charging toward the woman. “Boost me!”

 

The woman yank her blade out with a sickening sound. Not missing a beat, her shield had came down. Stepping onto cold metal, Fenris went with the motion as he was thrown over heard. Archers’ missed their shot, frightened at the sight of the elf flying toward them. Mid air the greatsword arched up. 

 

With a giant’s strength, the weapon went down on the thug. The screams were cut short as the blade went bone and flesh. The force had cleaved the mortal in half, and then some. A section of the upper levels were no more, sending an archer and himself down. 

 

Fenris rolled away, distancing himself from his would be attacker. Sadly the would be attacker got flatten as another section of the walkway broke down. The sounds muffled screech was too satisfying. Distracted, Fenris didn’t notice the threat coming down upon him. 

 

Lyrium brands burned. Adrenaline kicked in Fenris had thrown himself to the side, just as vines shot out of the ground. Skidding along the ground, his shoulder collided with a beam. In front of him a blade had dropped with a loud clatter. Blood dribbled down the vines. Looking up, Fenris couldn’t help but blink. One of the thugs were impaled from the ass on up. 

 

He couldn’t help but send Merrill a look, “.... Really?”

 

“Only the creators would have mercy on that poor soul.” Merrill cheeky reply rang out.

 

Two corpses had fallen somewhere behind the witch. A quick glance revealed Isabela leaning against the banister; blade spinning in her fingers. “Kitten, you forgot the slick didn’t you?”

 

“Slick? Why ever would I use slick?”

 

Isabela’s laughter filled the air. So did a very painful groan from the man. He  was still alive.

 

“Wow.” Aveline whispered as she yank her blade out from a body. Approaching the scene, she looked over thug. “How far as those vines up his arse?”

 

“Oh not very far. I’m certain if we bring him to Anders, he could live.”

 

“That will have to wait…” Fenris began and gave Aveline a meaningful look. 

 

Sighing, “I don’t like torture, however….” Turning her attention to the distraught man, “Why did you attack us?”

 

“Fawk youu Orl-” blood was coughed up. “-leesian bissch.” The slurring was just…. pathetic. 

 

“I’m not the one tripple penetrated by 10 feet worth of wood.” Aveline ignored Isabela’s chuckling. 

 

The man spat at Aveline. She sighed and glanced at Merrill, “End it. We’ll find what we need here.”

 

Merrill gave him a quick mercy. 

 

The group had disperse, exploring the warehouse for any clues. There was a cargo crate in the left on the dock. Similar crates were seen stacked in another room. Aveline had opened them, debating if they were stolen goods or not. 

 

Fenris just rolled corpses over, digging through pockets and searching everything for any loot. He found a pair of torn trousers in a pack and a few flawed gems. He couldn’t help but take the pack, torn trousers and all. Hawke would love another pair for her trousers.

 

Merrill and Isabela were heard chatting as they examined a barrel of fish. Fenris made a face. “Disgusting…” was muttered as he went back to Aveline. He didn’t want to loot anymore now.

 

The woman was staring at one of the crates with an utterly baffled look. Fenris’ stomach clenched. He didn’t like the thought of the possibility that this tip was all for nothing. 

 

“What was in the crate?” he asked curiously.

 

“Blankets. Bloody blankets.” Aveline looked over the crate. The lid was laid askew.

 

“Just…. blankets?”

 

“Yes.”

 

A pause and then, “These men fought us, for blankets? We killed them for blankets?”

 

“Apparently so… What a mess….”

 

This made no sense to Fenris. Something told Fenris that the only pay they’d get was stopping a gang from murdering the captain of the guard. That would give them a few silvers - if they were lucky.

 

Lifting the lid, moss green orbs narrowed. Indeed, all that could be seen was blankets. Thick, made of an interesting red fur. Running a hand through the fur, a revolting memory came to mind. He knew this material. Felt this material on his bare back. Sometimes his stomach. It depended on what his former master wished. He knew what the blankets were made of.

 

“Red hart….”

 

“What?” Aveline was at his side, looking over the bundles.

 

“These are not just mere blankets. These are red hart furs.” It was folly to kill such a magnificent beast. And from Aveline’s expression it was obvious that she knew this as well.

 

“Are you certain?”

 

Fenris nodded, “Danarius… he enjoyed such exotic… things.”

 

“Damn the maker!” Aveline’s fist connected with the crate; cracking the wood.

 

Isabela and Merrill had made their way over by then. Rest of the corpses were looted. The pirate tossed a coin purse toward Fenris. It was picked out from the air and stashed in one of the many satchels worn on his waist.

 

“What’s the racket?” Isabela questioned, peering into the crate. “What is this?”

 

“Red Hart. I thought I’d never see such fur again.” Merrill was mournful as she combed through the fur. “I remember the red harts back in Fereldan. Such beauties. I’m happy that we have ended these men now.”

 

Fenris couldn’t help but raise a brow. “You came in from Fereldan?” 

 

Merrill nodded, “Yes. Our keeper thought it was best….” she trailed off, looking over the furs.

 

“Damnit” Aveline muttered. “This was a bloody setup...” Aveline said softly.

 

“What do you mean by that, man hands?” Isabela was already pulling out one of the thick blankets, examining the material with much interest. She could already tell that the fur was a fine material.

 

Ignoring the jab of a nickname, “The nobles and various members of the Viscount will have no problem putting their grabby hands onto these…. Won’t be surprised that the original buyer will get this order.” Another sigh. “Would explain the odd tip off…”

 

A somber silence fell on the group. Of course the nobles would take the furs for themselves. It's just how the world works here in Kirkwall. The rich get what they want while the poor.

 

“Well if you don’t want the rich to have it, I'll happily take it off your hands.” Isabela grinned.

 

And that triggered the bickering. Sighing, Fenris shared a pained look with Merrill. They didn’t like where the conversation was going. Especially when Isabela request that Aveline could simply ‘look away.’

 

Fenris had pulled away from the bickering in favor of inspecting the other crates. Another crate was filled with more red hart furs. The other four crates will filled with ram furs. Not as fancy, but thicker and more reliable than the fancy skins. These were probably sent to cover the smuggled crates. 

 

The bickering grew into a heated argument. Ears flattened against his skull, Fenris glanced over his shoulder. Merrill was seen trying to pacify the women.

 

“Enough!” The barked command cause the women to look up. “The skins will be in my possession till Varric and Hawke come back.”

 

“Whoa, whoa! Why in your possession?” Isabela cried out, clinging onto the fur in desperation.

 

“Why not?” Fenris challenged.

 

Isabela pouted, “Because… I want one?”

 

Aveline groaned loudly. “Must you be so selfish?”

 

“Hey!” Isabela sighed.

 

“Why must we wait on Varric?” Merrill ignored the whines, giving Fenris a curious look.

 

“Because only the dwarf would know where to sell these furs to the highest and richest bidders the Free Marches. Through a legitimate and quiet route.” The last part was sent to Isabela. The pirate huffed and muttered something that she had legitimate sources too. 

 

The girls took a moment to consider what was said. Fenris knew that they didn’t agree to it, but were willing to try it out. 

 

“.... I’m still keeping this fur.” Isabella pouted at Fenris.

 

“Fine.” Giving Aveline a weary look, “So?”

 

Frowning, she turned her gaze toward Merrill. “.... Merrill, what do you think about this?”

 

“Um... “ There was a pause as she looked over Isabela. “I don’t agree with the idea of allowing such a sacred animal’s fur be treated in such a way…. but the promise of coin is good. Even I can’t deny the opportunity of putting food on my table…” Another pause, “Fenris.”

 

The warrior raised a brow, “Yes?”

 

“If you can fix the holes on my roof, then I will agree to the selling.”

 

Fenris nodded and then glanced at Aveline, “You still haven’t said anything on the matter.”

 

Aveline sighed and looked over the crate. “.... I was simply ambushed here tonight. Three drunks just happen to intervene and rescue the Captain of the Guard in the knick of time. A reward was promised and I went on my patrol to find any evidence of smuggled shipment.”

 

That settled an alibi and a reason why the shipment went missing. 

 

“Good. Now we can talk about the ram furs. A know a lot of residents down on their luck that could use them.”

 

Now who could deny such a charitable act?

 


	7. Rooftop bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has a bad habit of keeping promises to mages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings.

A gauntlet covered hand pounded on the door. The lanterns above the door were extinguished. It was an indication that the clinic was not  open. However, that did not stop the persistent knocking. The figure, who happened to be carrying a very large pack, knew that his knocking would eventually annoy the inhabitant within.

 

Fenris knew that the hour was ungodly. Even for him. He had been up most of the night, freezing his lovely feet in order to get the stolen cargo up to Hightown. It was amazing how many were willing to help him at the dead of night for a few bits. The memory brought on a smirk. Isabela, Merrill and himself had scored the motherload when moving the cargo. There was enough gold found that they could easily refund a small expedition party into the Deep Roads. Just a small, expedition party. 

 

The smirk went away when he heard the door unlatch. Out emerge a pale, frustrated and very furry face. The patchy beard was not a good look on the mage. It just made Anders appear more sunken, if that was even possible. 

 

Lips peeled back, sneering a sneer that would have Fenris’ own sneer seem pathetic. “What. Do. You. Want.” 

 

Unphased by the attitude, “I am in need of assistance. So I thought to bribe you with food and,” motioning to the heavy pack on his shoulder, “I stumbled upon something very useful.”

 

Anders stood there, staring at the elf. Considering the words, “Fine.” Stepping aside, he rushed the elf inside. The door was bolted shut behind Fenris.

 

“What is this about assistance?” Without a thought, Anders’ hand waved over a hearth. Flames crackled, providing warmth in the small space. 

 

Glaring at the use of magic, Fenris ignored the pull from his lyrium brands. The sack was set down, “I promised to the fix the holes in the Witch’s roof in exchange for her cooperation.”

 

Anders tasked himself into fixing a mug of tea. A small cough crept up the mage’s throat. Apparently the cold wasn’t easy to fight off, even with magic. “Another promise? Is this normal of you? Promising things to magi. Certainly you didn’t loose your sanity when Hawke left us for Fereldan.”

 

Snarling, “Be quiet mage.” Shaking his head, Fenris stalked off. He had no problem invading Anders personal quarters. The ratty blanket was seen, crumpled up at the foot of a cot. It wasn’t a bed, no matter how much Anders called it so.  “I will let you know that it was a dull event that lead to the promise.”

 

“What are you doing Elf? That is my - Hey! That’s my blanket!”

 

Fenris looked over the so called blanket. Scoffing, “This rag? Does it hold any significance to you?”

 

“What? No, its just my-” Anders’ watched as Fenris tossed the cloth into the hearth. The expression was priceless. “You goddamn bastard!”

 

Fenris ignored the other man. Instead he opened the sack and pulled out one of the many ram furs. Magic crackled in the air, annoying Fenris further. However he kept his emotions in check and shoved the bundle into Anders’ face. 

 

Warm, honey brown orbs blinked and stared. Lightning died at his fingertips. “What…” bony fingers grasp the fur; obviously confused.

 

“This one is yours.” Fenris stated as such. “There are more where it came from and you are to hand it out to those in need.”

 

“I… uh…” Anders sighed heavily. Anger was still etched onto his face. “You should have said something from the start. Not just take my things and burn them.”

 

Fenris just gave the blond a dry look. 

 

Huffing, “Right… Well, thank you Fenris.” Anders unrolled the bundle and examined. “This is well made…. where did you find….” a glance at the sack, “So many furs.”

 

“Aveline.” Taking a seat on a crate. “She came to me with a job. So I gathered the girls and we went to check on a tip. Smuggled goods. This was part of the loot, covering a shipment of red hart furs.”

 

Anders frowned deeply. “Let me guess, some noble wanted them.”

 

“That is what Aveline assumes. She didn’t report the lot. Just stated she was attacked and we were there in the knick of time. For now though the skins are at my mansion. We are to await for Varric so we can auction them to the nobles.”

 

There was a soft hum of approval. “Still doesn’t explain how you owe Merrill a promise…”

 

“Apparently she thinks it was too great of a folly to let the furs be sold. However she isn’t  a fool and knows that gold would be much needed in the future.”

 

“So, she invested her part of gold and struck a deal to get her roof fixed.” Anders finished. “I didn’t think she’d have it in her to pull that off.”

 

“Yes, well… last night was certainly something else…”

 

“What happened with dull events?”

 

“It would have been dull if Merrill didn’t strike it fancy to sodomise a thug with vines. Even I have to cringe at that one.”

 

Anders got green at the thought. “Forget that I even ask….” swallowing the elfroot tea, Anders coughed and cringed. “Let me get the tools… I’m certain we can figure out how to patch that roof.”

 

The men had gathered what was needed and set out. Much to Fenris’ dismay, Anders wasn’t exactly happy about the trip. Why exactly he just followed along instead of denying Fenris was a mystery. Maybe it was due to the Mage’s kind heart or the simple fact that he may feel indebt to Fenris. Honestly, Anders didn’t owe Fenris anything. 

 

However, it was funny to watch Anders make the most ridiculous sounds when touched by sunlight. 

 

“What is so funny, Elf?” Anders snapped as they exited the lift. In the distant Lowtown’s Merchants could be heard selling winter goods.

 

“You.” Fenris smirk widen. “Your constant hissing at the sunlight reminds me of the dark spawns from the Deep Roads.”

 

Anders huffed loudly and followed behind Fenris. “I am starting to hate Hawke for appointing you as my babysitter.” There was a pause and then, “Did I really acknowledged that? Andraste’s ass….”

 

Fenris shook his head and lead along. They were nearing the Hanged Man. Changing the topic, “Hanged mash?”

 

A confused, “What?” was heard. 

 

“Hanged Mash. You know… Pig oat mash… from the Hanged Man.” Fenris gave the blond a weird look. “Food. The thing that I shall bribe you with.”

 

“Oh… OH! Um…” Juggling with the pack of tools and then his staff, a coin purse was weighed. “Of course. Yes. Just….” there was a pause before, “Actually, nevermind. It would be fine.”

 

Raising a brow, “Nevermind what, Mage?”

 

Shaking his head, “Its not-”

 

“What is it, Anders?”

 

Warm, brown eyes stared at Fenris with wide eyed shock. A slow smile tweaked at the man’s shaggy face. Why was that mage smiling? “I was going to suggest that we bring some too Merrill. It’ll tastes wonderful with her hearth cakes.”

 

Fenris blinked and raised a brow. The Hanged Man was one of the few establishments that allowed orders to be ‘taken out.’ Though it was offered to special customers and it tend to be pricey, because the pots had to be insured in case of being lost or stolen. Still…

 

“You eat the blood witch’s food?” The thought of Merrill cooking was too amusing.

 

“Yes.” Anders grounded out. “Look, it is a ba-”

 

“Shut up.” Shaking his head, Fenris smirked. “I am certain that Norah wouldn’t mind giving us a larger pot on the go.”

 

“.... You’re being too nice…..” Anders muttered softly; with a teasing tone. “Are you sure you’re not possessed? Actually, think we can get some cider? Just a small cask.”

 

“You’re really pushing it Mage.” Fenris muttered.

 

They ended up getting a cask of cider and a small bottle of brandy. Much to Anders’ protests, Fenris had no problem shelling out the coin. He had made a small fortune with the gold dug up last night. At the same time, what kind of madman would have hanged mash without a proper drink?

 

All in all, the visit to the alienage was pleasant. Merrill had greeted them, surprised that Fenris had dragged Anders along. Not to mention baring food. And, as Anders has predicted, the small witch had indeed made some hearth cakes. The warm, simple sweet biscuits match the hanged mash very well. Something that all parties enjoyed.

 

Not wanting to get too lazy off of the food and drink, the men had started on the task of patching the roof. It sometime before noon when Anders finished teaching Fenris on how to tile the roof. Much to his initial  denial of not knowing, Anders certainly did know.

 

“Of course you’d lie about not knowing. Typical mage behavior.” Fenris grounded out as he hammered a tile onto the roof. “Damn abomination….”

 

“Typical mage behavior?” Anders mocked. “I’m so sorry for lying to you. I had to make sure that you were appropriate for a sacrifice to Justice. Would be rather fitting for an  _ abomination _ like me.”

 

“SIlence, Mage.” Fenris snarled; pounding at the nails with more force.

 

“Oh yes, very smart. Keep on chanting those words, right off a rooftop.”

 

Ignoring the man, Fenris grabbed a new tile and slapped it on. Setting in a nail, it went down with a blow. Another tile, another nail and another blow. 

 

“Fenris, don’t go too heavy.”

 

Anger lead the hammer as it went down harder. 

 

“Fenris, seriously, stop.”

 

Another tile. Another nail. Another blow. Just like before.

 

“Oh would you fucken stop already!” Anders yelled. Fenris snarled, ignoring the man. The pounding was becoming more…. pounding. “I’m serious! Stop hammering or els-”

 

It was safe to say that the nail went down… all the way down. Merrill was heard below, screaming in Elven. The men paled as they listened to her scream. They did not know if it she yelled obscenities or was just simply frightened. 

 

“He did it!” Both Fenris and Anders yelled, pointing at one another.

 

Merrill’s disapproving face could be seen through the new hole in the roof. She glared at them, “.... I don’t care who did it. Just fix it.” Shaking her head, she went to get a broom.

 

“Really? I did it?” Anders sneered.Fenris looked away, embarrassed by his childish action.  “Move. I need to take out this whole section now….”

 

For the next hour, Fenris watched and learned. He asked a few questions, like what tool was which and the difference between the tiles being used. The argument was soon forgotten and Fenris was tasked to help. The cold was hardly noticed as they worked. Occasionally there was a gasp from Anders when harsh winds came down upon them, but so far the hard work kept him warm. 

 

The afternoon bled away easily. The chattering of the elves below could be heard. Some happily greeted their neighbors while others argued over domesticated issues. It was different compared to other sections in Kirkwall. Though, Fenris’ ears would flicker at the sounds of someone singing. It was a soft, foreign tune. It was surprising that he even heard it over the sounds of hammering. 

 

However, Fenris was wondering where the sound was coming from to start with. 

 

Stopping his work, Fenris look over the alienage below. He saw no one singing, or at least appeared to be. Ears perked, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.

 

The singing stopped, in exchange of laughter. 

 

Whirling around, Fenris glared at the other man. It took a moment before realization dawned upon him. Anders was singing the foreign tune. 

 

“What are you laughing about?”

 

“I’m sorry.” Anders gasped with a small hiccup. Rubbing at his red cheeks, “Your ears. They… They’re so adorable.”

 

Ears flattened against his skull. Growling at the blond, some of the more darker and nastier phrases of tevene was tossed out. Translation… well, best not say. It would even make Isabela blush.

 

Anders just gave the elf a weird look. “Whatever you said…. is it suppose to sound that romantic? I swear Elf…”

 

Fenris’ cheeks burned as he resumed working on the roof. They were almost finished. “Just shut up and continue that singing….”

 

“Why?”

 

There was a long pause. Softly, “It sounded beautiful….”

 

Anders warm chuckling was heard along with the soft song. Fenris couldn’t help but smile. That Anders was starting to grow on him.


	8. Loosing those to injustice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris learns first hands what it means to be associate yourself with magi when under the Templars ire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard for me to write for many reasons. However the plot does roll forward from here on. I promise romance will happen! It is a very slow burn. 
> 
> Trigger warnings:  
> NPC death.   
> Miscarriage.   
> Blood.

A month has past since the start of winter. The cold had seem to worsen with each passing day. More so in the sewers. The residents were reducing in numbers. As predicted, it was the old and young that went first. It was hard for citizens to be happy or even caring. Grudges were held, but there was no energy to act on it. Unless it was for coin or something warm. And food. Many were desperate for food. There was even a rumor saying that One Leg Kenneth got so hungry that he ate away at his other leg, thus leading to his death.

 

No one bothered to look for the body, so they kept to the rumors.

 

Fenris had heard the story though. He didn’t bother to think on it…. No, he didn’t want to think on it. He knew the pains of starvation had lead him to gnaw onto his own in desperation. Instead he filled his plate up so that he didn’t have to look for the man. It was cowardly, however Fenris was not ready to face that reality. So he went on his business to make coin, help Anders and try his best to feed the general populace of Darktown once a week. During the time he also visited various people. Leandra in the estate. Aveline in the barracks. Sebastian in the Chantry. Isabela was a common sight in the Hanged Man. Even Merrill got checked on - when he was in Isabela’s company. 

 

Fenris was becoming a bit of a celebrity though. Stories of the Glowing One’s charity had spread. It even caught many of the Lowtown’s ears. Some of them tried to take advantage of the situation for themselves. Try to get a free bowl of soup and a nice ram fur blanket even though they could afford such things. Most of those people were threatened with a giant blade to their throat. 

 

Chokedamp had hit the residents mid month. The deadly agent was hard to see at times. Even Anders had difficulty to determine if his patients were suffering from the Damp, or just fatigued by poor conditions and nutrition. It wasn’t till the patients that shown signs of late oxygen deprivation that Anders began working on a double shift. One with patients, the other to seal off the source of the chokedamp. 

 

Fenris had not enjoyed that weekend. Sloshing through the icy sewers to reseal old tunnels. His armor was soiled so bad that rust began to form. It was to be replace when it can. For now, he had to use a bulkier breast plate that limited his usual freedom. At least the chokedamp was sealed off - till the pressure caused another leak. 

 

All in all, taking care of Anders meant that Fenris had to live in the mage’s crazy world. At least when it concerned the life around the clinic and the residents of Darktown. It was interesting how their relationship had taken such a turn. Ever since fixing Merrill’s roof something seem to click. Maybe it was because they had seen each other at vulnerable moments. Small moments, yes, but still vulnerable. 

 

Anders had made it a habit to hum or sing around the elf when they were alone. In turn Fenris kept quiet and watched the mage. Fenris had long since found out what language Anders sang. It was the tongue of the Anderfells. He barely could understand the words other than a few phrases. In private Fenris tried to mimic the words. 

 

Other than the singing the men had fell into a comfortable routine. Fenris would come in the morning, baring some sort of food. Sometimes Lirene would be by his side, other times he was by himself. They ate and got ready for the day. Though there were moments when they couldn’t eat till late in the afternoon. Depending on the flow of the day, Fenris would leave and do his own private duties. 

 

Talking about private duties… Fenris had caught wind that Anders met with resistance groups. Most of the time Fenris steered clear of it. He didn’t want to deal with that sort of mess. Nor did he wish to risk his freedom over some mage. However, the elf did keep an ear out for when the Templars came. Most of them only came to search for Anders, so it was easy to avoid them.

 

Tonight though, Templars seem to make a large topic.

 

“-our taking a huge risk by going out on these meetings, that’s all I’m trying to get through to you Mage.” Fenris dump a soiled bandages into cold waters. Ignoring the painful numbing of his fingers, he began to scrub them clean. 

 

“Its very nice that you’re so concerned for me.” The sarcastic reply was not appreciated. 

 

“This is not a joke Anders.” Water sloshed with his angry movements. “I hear the whispers and the rumors of what happens in the gallows. You’re the only hope that this shithole has and to get caugh-”

 

Whatever else was to be said was cut off by a bang against the door. The men stop what they were doing and stared at the door. 

 

“Healer! Healer!”The front door shook as a woman’s pained cries were heard. 

 

Frowning at the distressed cries, “... That sounds like Miranda.” 

 

Anders’ held a similar expression. “Its too early for her…” He never finished what he said and rushed to the door. 

 

The door was yanked open and a thin, small frame had stumbled into the mage. She was crying uncontrollably. “Save him. Please, save him.”

 

Anders held the woman, “Sssh, its okay. I have you Miranda. Just tell me what is wrong.” He tried to lead the woman toward a cot. 

 

Fenris rushed to the door. Checking that the lanterns were blown out, the door was then bolted close. His mind rushed, remembering the woman very well. She was a regular here in the clinic. The half elf just lost her husband to the templars and soon after her home several months ago. She didn’t even know she was pregnant till Hawke had stumbled upon her. The woman just lifted Mirandra and brought her to Anders.

 

The woman’s sobs did not hide Anders angry gasp. The man was staring at Miranda’s lower extremities. A cold hand snaked its way into Fenris and yanked down on his stomach. He could already expect the worse. 

 

“Fenris, water and towels.” Anders was working automatically, cutting away at the thick rags that bundled up the small woman. 

 

Fenris wasted no time in assisting. It was a familiar habit. To take orders that is. However his urgency was not fueled by the thought of a dreaded punishment. Instead it was the thought of helping that inspired him. But more importantly, it was by choice.

 

Towels and water were set down. The stench of blood was strong. A quick glance and his insides churn painfully. With the clothing cut away, Miranda’s stomach was bare. Normally perk and filled, it was now riddled with bruises shaped like boot marks. An indentation of a sword surrounded by flame stood out in the mixture of purple and blues. Blood seep out from the only possible exit. 

 

Sharp ears caught onto a muffled mantra. “Templars. Templars. Templars.”

 

Fenris’ mind went blank. Slowly the whispers of denials creep in like demons whispering sweet nothings to a mage. There was no way that a Templar would beat a woman into… abortion. They weren’t monsters. They weren’t magisters from the Tevinter Imperium. 

 

“Fenris, hold her. She’s going into shock.” Anders commanded. 

 

Again the order was taken. A faint memory of slaying a child on command came to mind. Pushing the guilt away, he grasped Miranda’s hand. Holding the woman close to his chest, he tried desperately to form some sort of words for comfort. The only comfort he could give was a silent prayer. 

 

Three hours later and the men stared at the corpses on the cot. Anders had put his all into healing the woman. Barked orders left and right. Items received and handed over with urgency. An extra pair of hands were place where they were needed. There was so much blood. Blood the was lost and eventually caused the woman to seize. 

 

Now all that could be done was to stare at their own blood stained hands. Realization that they lost both mother and child was too heavy on their hearts and mind. Even more so on Anders. The injustice of what the woman suffered was too much to bare on his shoulders. Fickles of blue could be seen underneath cracked skin. 

 

“Why…” Fenris whispered. The Templar Order’s symbol blurred against the contusions and blood. “Why would she say that?”

 

“Because it was the truth.” Anders whispered. He finally picked himself off the ground, gathering tools and supplies. 

 

Fenris was left to his thoughts. He didn’t dare leave the body. Not yet at least. He just reached for the child’s corpse. The body was bludgeoned against the brutal blows. With care, the body was placed into Miranda’s arms. 

 

“... But… why….” The words left his lips without knowing.

 

“Because she harbored a Mage’s child… That is why.”

 

Anders admission left an empty rage in Fenris’ chest.


	9. Aftermath drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Fenris swears that he'll magically fist templars. Or was it the whisky that swore this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg! You guiseee! I didn't expect so many responses! I know i haven't replied to all of them and I will soon! But I just want everyone to know that I love it all! Uh, I may slow down my batch chapter uploading. I had to re-write the chapters I rushed through typing and now, well... I'm behind my writing. However! I'm still continuing! This might be my last duo chapter upload, at least till I make a nice stack of chapters. 
> 
> Trigger warnings:  
> Alcohol.

They had left the bodies in the clinic. Bundled up and hidden underneath floorboards in the coldest corner of the room. They didn’t have the stomach to just toss them into a ditch. Not yet at least. Maybe later, once they blur the details out. Either way, the men wanted to be anywhere but there for the evening. 

 

Well, Fenris couldn’t say that  Anders wanted to be anywhere else. But, he knew that leaving the mage in the clinic would not do him any good. So he guided Anders through the many tunnels, heading for an all too familiar lift into Lowtown.

 

Anders followed along with a dead look in his eyes. The usual honey brown orbs were dull and dark like the mood around them. Fenris already missed the light in the man’s eyes. The feeling gnawed at his throat, making it difficult to breath. 

 

Fenris already knew what to do. So he lead the way through the icy night. At least the air sobered them up. 

 

“Why are you taking me there?” Anders whispered was almost missed over the howling winds. 

 

“... I want a drink.” Fenris rumbled back. “Maybe you wish for one as well?”

 

“... Justice won’t let me get drunk…”

 

There was a pause in his step. Turning to the mage, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you’ve given yourself into a whole body possession.” snorts. “Tell that demon to fuck off.”

 

Anders stood there, peering down at the elf with a dry look. A humorless scoff escaped his lips, “You hear that Justice? You’re not to pester me. Babysitters orders.” 

 

Rolling his eyes, Fenris grunted. “I swear Mage…” He whispered. 

 

The trek continued in silence. It didn’t take long before they saw the all too familiar figure of the Hanged Man. The notorious landsite was lit like a beacon. Music and constant chattering of patrons were heard. Drunks tumbled out the front door. One of them emptied their stomachs on the spot. Another went to piss on some cart. 

 

“Uh looook.” A drunk slurred between drool and vomit. The stench of cheap wine and sweat oozed off the man. “Ah knuff-earrrr.” 

 

“Ya don’t say Keeg.” the other zipped up, ready to harass an elf. 

 

Fenris paid them no mind as he passed by. There would be no fun in beating some drunken man. Usually they were harmless, just like their words. Then again, the thought of getting into a fight seemed thrilling. But… alas these fools won’t even have him break a-

 

The pull of lyrium and the drunks were yelling in agony. Glancing over his shoulder a dark brow was sent at the mage. He just shrugged and looked over at the drunks. They had fell over, unconscious in their own filth. 

 

“I think they had too much to drink….” Anders muttered and slip through the door.

 

Fenris didn’t bother to hide his smile. 

 

The smell of warm liquor, meat and sweat filled Fenris’ senses. Already use to the stench, he tried to see if he could at least pick up Isabela’s scent. Or at least the sight of her. It didn’t take long till his ears perked at the sounds of the Pirate’s laugh. 

 

Anders seem to ignore everything as he headed for the bar. Following after the man, Fenris stop Anders from reaching into his coat. “Put that away.” the elf rumbled. “Corif, lagers and a bottle of whisky.”

 

“I can buy my own drinks…” Anders whispered harshly. 

 

“On water downed piss?” Fenris raised a brow at the man. 

 

The men kept a heated gaze. It was obvious to Fenris that the mage wanted to lash out and be angry. Fenris knew cause he had felt like that. The memory that happened in Seheron was still burned into the deepest part of his mind. 

 

Sighing heavily, “Just accept it Anders. If… It - that thing - lets you be for a night. Might as well be on good drinks, not piss.”

 

That placated the man. At least for him to acknowledge the tankard of lager place before him. Muttering in an angry tone, “I’ll pay you back…” and in one swoop the lager was being chugged away.

 

Shaking his head, “Have Norah send us refills.” two glasses were snagged from behind the bar. The free hand grasped both tankard and bottle. “C’mon. I hear the pirate yelling Man Hands.”

 

“Do we have too?” Anders grumbled as he motioned for Corif to top him off. 

 

“If you rather stay between shit and more shit, then…. yes, you will have too.” Fenris gave a patron a disgusted look. Do any of these people bathe? Before he could even answer the question for himself, Fenris made his way toward the largest table in the back. 

 

It wasn’t only Isabela that could be seen at that table. Apparently the whole circle was there. Well, excluding Hawke and Varric. Everyone was participating in a game of wicked grace. Drinks laid out and actual coin left in a pile. There was a standoff between Sebastian and Isabel as far as money piles went. He could tell everyone was having a good time. Would be a shame to ruin it all, but….

 

He glanced at Anders. Watched as how the mage drag himself along. He didn’t want to be here and yet he did. At least to get lost in the booze. Or his rage. Who knew. But it was the best decision Fenris could make for them both. They needed to be around those that won’t attack them when their emotions were on a rather thin line. 

 

Plus he wouldn’t mind a game or two of Wicked Grace.

 

Pushing Anders into a seat, glasses and alcohol were set down. Taking a seat for himself Fenris was not phased by the chorus of greetings and a drunken insults. Their happy, flushed faces slowly darkened as they watched Fenris pour out whisky into Anders and his own glass. The mage didn’t even bother to grace them a smile as he knocked back the liquor. Fenris let him take charge of the bottle. 

 

“It appears that you two come to card night with a rather grim look.” Sebastian started with a worried expression. “What has happened?”

 

Isabela sighed and leaned against her knuckles. “I think Fenris’ brooding has infected our lovely healer. I’m surprised that stick in the mud hasn’t told you to stop drinking Anders.”

 

Anders kept quiet as another shot of whisky was knocked back. Norah came around to drop off the lagers. Even she gave Anders a worried look, but said nothing of it. She knew better than to mention anything to paying customers. 

 

Merrill frowned from her corner. “This… doesn’t seem like a normal human ritual… or is it?”

 

“It depends Merrill.” Aveline whispered. “Anders…. Fenris, what happened?”

 

Grasping his tankard, Fenris took a few sips. He wasn’t sure how to start. Just stare at the frothy brew. “....Sebastian….” 

 

“Yes.” The chantry brother’s attention did not waver as he pushed cards to the side. 

 

“What is to happen if a Templar knight is accused of murdering an innocent woman and their child?” Fenris met the other man’s gaze. He watched as Sebastian took in the words and gave it thought. 

 

“... It would depend on why.” Sebastian began. Anders could be heard scoffing and muttering, ‘typical.’ Not phased by what Anders said, “However, if it were true, then their shield would be taken away and they are to be handed over to the local law.”

 

Fenris nodded. “I see….”

 

A glass was slammed down. A glance over and Fenris saw Anders glaring at the table. “If it were true? Ha. Oh, that is too rich. Do you really think so highly of your precious Templar Order, Sebastian?”

 

The brother frowned deeply, “I am no fool, if that is what you are implying Anders. I know that men often commits the deadliest of sins. However such an accusation cannot b-”

 

“Taken from an apostate?” Anders faked a gasp. “Oh noes. A mage witnessed something illegal. Of course it's a fabricated lie! Look, the mage is crying injustice. It must be summoning a demon.” 

 

Sebastian narrowed his eyes and then sighed. Nothing was said. Fenris top off his own drink, quickly swallowing it. 

 

“So…. Let me get this straight.” Reaching for the bottle of whisky, Isabela happily top off her own glass. “Some shiney templar cut down some poor innocent folk? And what? It wasn’t a mage? Or it was?”

 

“Bludgeoned a woman into abortion.” Fenris supplied. The lager was next. It churned with the whisky in his stomach. “A non-magical woman.”

 

The partons yelling and chattering seem to grow louder after the admission. The tense atmosphere did not once leave the table’s bubble. Everyone held a grim expression of shock. A picture was painted for them; already assuming what these men had gone through. Though they still didn’t know the whole story.

 

Anders top off their glasses this time. 

 

“Were they killed?” Merrill whispered in quivering rage. “Please, tell me that they were killed for such a sin.”

 

Isabela placed a hand onto the witch’s shoulder. However it was shoved off. A cold fire burned within Merrill’s gaze. The pirate frowned at this and then turned to her drink. “Don’t leave us hanging in suspense boys.” she muttered.

 

Anders stared into the empty glass in disgust. “I would rather be out there killing the bastard that did that….”

 

“Then how do you know it was a Templar?” It was Aveline who asked.

 

Anders sneered into his glass. Fenris just elbowed the man before something sarcastically insulting was said. Giving the blond a look, he then addressed Aveline. “Templar markings from their boots.” A pause before, “Where she bore the child….”

 

“Delltash!” Merrill spat venomously. 

 

Everyone stared at the elf as she crumbled against her hands. “Delltash! Delltash! Delltash.” She was taking the information rather hard.

 

“Merrill?” Sebastian called out. “What’s wrong?”

 

The small woman shook her head. This time she accepted Isabela’s comfort and let herself get wrapped in the pirate’s arms. Taking a few shuddering breaths, “... There is no sin greater than to kill a woman bearing a child.” was whispered. “Even taking one’s life can seem more honorable than that.” Anything said after that was lost in a babble of elven. 

 

Fenris top off the glasses. The burn of whisky left him feeling…. something. He was unsure when he’d decide what he felt. All he knew was that something was felt. 

 

Aveline sighed heavily, rubbing at temples. “Let me guess…. They thought she harbored an unborn mage?”

 

Anders knocked back the shot before ordering another lager. “I guess they skip over the part where not everyone is born a mage.” 

 

Another pregnant pause as the table digested the information. Everyone was taking it hard and with a very heavy heart. Even Isabela didn’t dare crack a joke. What happened tonight was just a slice of horror that Anders had witness many times before. 

 

Realization dawned upon Fenris. He knew that he had heard the mage speak time and time again how Templars abused their powers and did what they could to get the better end of things. Fenris was no fool. He knew that those in power would try to get away with a few bad deeds. But this… 

 

The man… or men, who have done this were no better than the Magisters of Tevinter. 

 

Fenris used his tankard to fill up the harsh liquor. The last drop was emptied into it. Fenris waved Norah to bring another as he took a heavy pull from the tankard. The remnants of beer and whisky made an interesting taste. 

 

Somewhere between the drinking and thinking, the table spoke again. Fenris faintly acknowledged Merrill’s cries when she learned that it was Mirandra that fell victim to the crimes. Aveline slammed fists onto the table, sending cards and coin flying. Sebastian was torn. While Isabela threw callous logic.

 

Fenris felt useless. That was the emotion. Uselessness. He could not give any more words. Nor could he save Miranda tonight. Maybe it was because of his hands. Cursed Anders chance at helping the woman live for another day.

 

“-ou spineless fool! You’re just a coward!”

 

Anders was yelling at Sebastian. For what reason, Fenris did not know. He was too busy filling his glass and ordering more bottles. He didn’t want to remember Miranda body. Nor that the child’s. The liquor no longer burned his throat. However it did nothing for the emptiness inside.

 

“-ircle matter Anders! Course you must understand?”

 

Understand? What was there to understand?

 

A mother and its unborn child were victims to a system sprouted on hatred and fear. No matter how justifiable the fear was, it did not excuse anyone to kill an innocent. 

 

The fog warrior’s children came to mind. LIquor burned it away. 

 

“-an’t the Grand Cleric do anything?”

 

Can’t the Grand Cleric do anything?

 

Fenris questioned this as he stared Anders. Everyone argued and rebuttled him. The blond did nothing to hide his rage. His human rage that is. Somehow he managed to not go all glowy in his intoxicated state. Or was he intoxicated? Some had to remember that Anders was a warden. 

 

“Then what do we? Shove our thumbs up the arse?”

 

Fenris couldn’t help but snerk. Shoving thumbs up the ass. What the hell would that do?

 

“Broody has a point. Not much can be done with a thumb.” Isabela chimed.

 

Fenris glanced up, noticing that everyone was looking at him. Except for Anders. The blond mage was glaring at his mug, unsure whether to give up and listen to everyone. Or just be backed into a corner and try to shoulder this on his own. 

 

Doing things alone sucked. A lot. A whole lot. 

 

Fenris remembered living free for the first time. He recalled those lonely nights when he feared that Danarius would come back for him. Glancing at Sebastian, Fenris couldn’t help but think that maybe Anders harbored the same fear. Most certainly did as Fenris examined the mage’s eyes. There literally was no life in them. Just a deadness that…

 

Fenris knew then that he didn’t like that look. 

 

“Why thumb when I can magically fist them?” 

 

Of all the stupid things he could ever say. Fenris pursed his lip, repeating the words to himself. 

 

Fenris turned to acknowledge the fresh bottle of whisky before him. Everyone seem to gawk at the elven warrior as he pop open the fresh bottle and top off two glasses. picking one up, it was then handed over to Anders.

 

The blond just blinked, unsure what to do. Fenris just waited for him to take the glass. Cold fingers brushed against his. An unexpected warmth filled his chest as he saw a small light glimmer in Anders’ eyes. 

 

A warm smile graced Fenris’ lips. 

 

Glasses clanked. “To my word! I shall magically fist the Templar bloody for his crimes.” The whisky was knocked back. 

 

“Must we speak of sodomising…?” Sebastian’s disgusted groaning was heard in the background. Everything else after just garble as Fenris watched the mage stare at his drink. 

 

Glossy at the eyes, Anders bit at his lower lip. The smallest and faintest of whimpers could be heard. The drink was knocked back. Coughing between a chuckle and a sob, the Mage shook his head. “Yes. We will watch as you magically fist a Templar bloody.” 

 

The stress of the night finally caught up to Anders. The sobs came in short hiccups. Cracking in front of everyone, tears ran down his cheeks. Silent whispers of how he did not save them escaped his lips. There was no comfort in the words. There was no comfort as Anders curled into himself. The man was hurting and all he could do was hold himself in hope that it would ease the pain in his own heart. 

 

Fenris was unsure what possessed him to do it. Be the drinks or the image of Miranda’s body, hidden underneath the clinic. He didn’t know. What he did know was that he didn’t want to see Anders like this. So he reached out. His arm curled around the thin and fragile shoulders, pulling the man toward his chest. 

 

He let Anders crumble away into his chest.


	10. Main course?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a night of drinking, somehow, Fenris is okay with sharing a moment of intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always had a headcannon where Fenris' had large hands, which has been mentioned a few times in the story. Its more for shits and giggles. 
> 
> Trigger warnings:  
> implied past rape.  
> Fenris' large hands.

The only good thing about getting shitfaced on whisky was that Fenris could sleep through anything. He was normally such a light sleeper. A habit conditioned as years of being a slave, obviously. It was welcoming as it was not. The sleep was not refreshing. Just blackout and-

 

An obnoxious snore, accompanied by an awful stench. 

 

Fenris jerked awake. Panic filled his senses at the sudden weight on his chest. The memory of wet flesh and the pull of motions came to mind. Instinct had him frozen underneath the weight. Just breathe, let his master have his way and it’ll be over soon. 

 

The snore rang into Fenris’ sensitive eardrum. The sound was so horrid that he had to flinch. Danarius never snored…

 

Opening his eyes all that can be seen is the ceiling relief. Andraste, shining in all her glory above him. It was so different compared to Danarius’ usual reliefs. He was so use to seeing the artwork that illustrated the black divine’s banners.

 

The cloud of confusion dispersed when another snore rattled at his ears. He wasn’t in some grand estate in Tevinter. He was in his squat. The mansion he stole from Danarius. The mansion that he stole and did as he pleased. 

 

The feel of a heavy weight on his side was not pleasing though. And it stunk like a sewer nug. 

 

A quick glance revealed that he was in his own bed. The thing against his side took shape of a dirty, lanky man clothed in threadbare cotton. The ratnest of blond hairs tickled at Fenris’ chin. He could feel a coarse beard rubbing at the crook of his neck. If it weren’t for the difference of texture, Fenris would have been shuddering in pure disgust. This wasn’t Danarius slump against him.

 

With a heavy hand, Fenris reached for the blond strands. He could smell medicinal herbs underneath that stench. It was Anders, no doubt about that. The memory of last night came in. They had lost two souls last night and went to get plastered. Fenris must have told Anders to come here.

 

Tugging at the hair, “Mage…” His voice rasped. “Wake up.”

 

The snore was cut off by a faint giggle. Whatever the man was dreaming about had him running hands over Fenris’ body. The touch was unwanted. So Fenris held them to stop. There an unintelligent mutter of unfair. Anders was trying desperately to cuddle with the elf.

 

“Anders.” Fenris growled, pushing the man away from him. 

 

Somehow the thin figure wrapped itself around Fenris’ hands. It moaned blissfully when a finger brushed what felt like a… studded nipple. Fenris couldn’t help but blush at the revelation. He had heard the blond whisper naughty things to Isabela from time to time, but he didn’t think that the mage would go as far as piercing his own nipples. Especially since it was an Antivan practice. 

 

Pushing the mage away, Fenris tried to ignore at how intrigued he was about the other man’s body. Yes, Anders was just skin and bone, but at that moment Fenris felt more than just that. It was lean, hard muscles felt underneath his hands. 

 

Fenris snarled loud, “ANDERS!” 

 

That caused the mage to jump and look around with bleary eyes. Anders slowly blinked and then acknowledged the hand on his chest. “... Maker, your hand is huge.” was whispered. Slumping into the mattress, Anders curled up into a ball - around Fenris’ hand. 

 

The elf glared at the offending meatsack that thought it was okay to latch onto his arm. Sighing, Fenris withdrew his hand. Anders whimpered loudly, so loudly that it could have been mistaken for a cry. Fenris almost returned his hand back against Anders chest, but then he got a whiff of the man. 

 

Swatting his hand onto Anders’ temple, “Wake up.”

 

There was an angry grunt from the pile of filth.

 

“I will not have you rot my sheets with your filth.” Fenris tried the communication route. Placing a hand onto Anders’ back. “C’mon. You can sleep later you foolish mage.”

 

Reasoning with the exhausted mage did no good. Fenris couldn’t help but smile - out of annoyance. He could continue to pester the man, but eventually he’d go back to sleep. Honestly, Fenris didn’t have the heart to disturb the man further. Who knows how long its been since Anders truly got reasonable rest. 

 

Watching Anders rest brought on a weird emotion. He had to admit, watching the man in his most vulnerable state was disturbingly creepy. However it was comforting. Rubbing the man’s back the rise and fall of marred skin was felt. It was everywhere and yet it wasn’t. Fenris knew what he was feeling. He just didn-

 

“Templars.” The body moved; curling into itself. 

 

Fenris’ hand stilled. After last night, the horror stories Anders told became real. Now, it wasn’t just real. It was so much more and not once did Anders spoke of it. Spoke how that reality was now on his skin. The horror imprinted onto his mind. The stories of injustice was never spoken from experience. The experience was too much to admit. 

 

So, Fenris changed the topic. “... Am I making you uncomfortable?”

 

“No.” Anders whispered. “Well, yes… I’d want more sleep. But no. No, I am not uncomfortable.”

 

Fenris hummed softly and laid his hand back. Fingertips rolled over the muscle, rubbing small tension spots out. A brief memory of Hawke’s hands doing the same came to Fenris. Recalling the warmth and comfort of those moments were… pleasant.

 

Staring at the figure, Fenris gnawed at his lip. He wasn’t sure if he should follow through with the thoughts. Remembering last night, how Anders shook in his arms and cried. They had played it off as though nothing happened when more drinks came. But Fenris knew in his drunken haze how lonely Anders had felt. Even now, Anders didn’t shrug off the small comforts Fenris could offer. 

Shifting in his seat, Fenris slowly laid himself against the man. Fingers trailed along thin arms and wrapped themselves around bony wrists. Scars were felt. Deep, rugged and yet smooth. A painful twinge at the heart. Shackles made these scars. 

 

Fenris couldn’t explain why he felt the need to do this. Maybe it was the scars. Fenris knew that he got emotional on the topic of torture. Having to endure it so much as a slave and watching others. It form a knot in his throat. He just couldn’t seem to get rid of it. But he knew, with Hawke, that this sort of comfort was nice… and surprisingly welcomed.

 

Anders shifted underneath, “What are you doing?” Small tremors were felt underneath Fenris’ hands. The elf picked up an uneasiness from the other man. 

 

Licking his dry lips, Fenris frowned in concentration. He hated to talk about the significance of what he was doing. As odd and inexperienced as he was with comforting people, all he can do was follow Hawke’s lead. 

 

Maybe this wasn’t what Anders wanted.

 

Fenris began to move. He stop, feeling Anders hands gripping his wrists. They said nothing. Fenris knew that he misinterpreted Anders’ question. So he allowed himself to lay back down. He’d have to try again. 

 

“... Hawke…” was muttered. “She…. She did this. I hated it, at first. But I couldn’t deny the… comfort it gave.”

 

Anders laid still. The itchy material of his shirt scratched against Fenris’ bare chest. He tensed up, unsure what to make of the silence. Or the fact that his skin was bare. At least he had pants on.  Fenris look over his shoulder just to make sure. Yes. Pants on. 

 

“This is the first time I ever heard you mention Hawke in such… a manner.”

 

Anders statement caused Fenris to blink. Staring at the ratnest of blonds, Fenris mulled over it. This was true. He never really spoken about his time with Hawke. He wasn’t sure how to talk about it. Or if he should even bother to speak of it. 

 

Covering Anders hands with his own, “No… No I haven’t.” Fenris whispered. Laying his chin onto Anders shoulder, blond hairs tickled at his nose.

 

“Hawke mentioned that… you seem uncomfortable….” Anders fingers tangled with Fenris. 

 

Fenris huffed into Anders neck. “No she did not.”

 

A shiver was felt from the man underneath. Anders quickly masked it with a chuckle. “No. Not exactly, but it was expressed.” There was a pause. “What… No. Why. Why did you break it off?”

 

Fenris lifted a hand, letting his fingers dance against Anders’. It was fascinating how thin the mage’s fingers were. And long. Licking his lips, the words were formed in his mind. He had asked himself that many times before. All he could come up with…

 

“Fear… uncertainty… confusion.” The words sunk in better when said aloud. Wrapping a finger over an index, callouses were felt. “I was confused as to what I was feeling. Uncertain that… that it was just lust and childish attraction. What if what I felt wasn’t genuine. If… If it continued….”

 

“You’d fear that it would have gotten worse?” Anders whispered, tugging at Fenris’ fingers. 

 

“... Yes.” The admission released a knot. A knot that Fenris wasn’t even aware of. Gripping Anders hand, the elf tried to hide against the taller man. It was stupid and utterly childish. 

 

“Your hands are massive….” 

 

Jerking his head up, Fenris glared at the mess of blond hair. “What?” Fenris didn’t mean to snarl it out, but… By the Maker, everyone said that. It was starting to get annoying. 

 

“They are.” Anders huffed. He shifted enough to peer at the elf with an eye. “I’ve treated many elves. Rarely their hands are as big as mines.” To empathise, Anders laid a hand against Fenris’. The delicate digits were just a shy shorter than Fenris’. However they were nowhere as thick as Fenris’. “And never this thick. Dwarves and a few mortal men have hands this thick.”

 

Pulling his hands away, Fenris tucked them between his chest and Anders’ back. He was starting to feel self conscious about his hands. Something Anders found amusing as he chuckled. Of course Fenris growled, not finding this amusing. 

 

“I’m sorry Fenris.” Anders began. “It was just an observation….” Arms reached for Fenris’ hands, trying to tug them back out.

 

Fenris played with the idea of denying the mage his hands. Afterall, it was his hands. But then he heard Anders whining softly. There was a faint mutter of, ‘bloody sensitive.’ Rolling his eyes, Fenris let his hands get captured. The mage could be heard letting out a soft squeal of delight. 

 

Fenris sighed softly and chuckled. “You’re such a child….” 

 

“Really now?” Anders feigned interest. His fingers were already following the patterns of lyrium. Anders didn’t touch the branding.

 

“Its an observation.” Fenris sneered. 

 

There was a hum of acknowledgement. “.... I have a theory…..”

 

“On why you’re such a childish annoyance? Oh please, do say.”

 

Anders pinched at the flesh between thumb and index fingers. “Hush!” Fingers resumed their tracing. “I think it's the lyrium…. I… can I examine them? With magic, I mean.”

 

Taking his hands away, Fenris ignored the whine. The elf might be comfortable at the moment to share such intimacy, but that was really pushing it. The warmth was no more as Fenris sat up. He already regretted pulling himself away, but knew that it was necessary. 

 

Anders huffed softly and slowly turned his body. Laying on the side, his gaze was kept onto Fenris. “I’m not going to do anything hurtful, you know that. It just a simple examination spell. You seen me perform it many times.”

 

That was true. Fenris had watch Anders used the magic to assess damage that wasn’t obvious to normal eyes. Many times Fenris thought that it was useful. To get an idea of what is going on with a body. There could have been numerous causes to an upset stomach and no one could have thought it was due to internal bleeding or something less drastic. 

 

An annoyed sigh and the hand was offered. Anders was smart enough to keep his glee inside. Sitting up, the cold fingers wrapped around Fenris’ wrist. The magic was already prickling away at the brands, however not as painful. Fenris frowned and watched as Anders was more careful when holding onto his hand. 

 

The surprised gasp came from the magi. The frown deepen on Fenris. The temptation to pull his hand away was strong. However it wasn’t possible when Anders snatched for the other hand. The shock had melted into despair. Faintly, Fenris heard the man whisper, “That monster.” with silent rage.

 

Fenris tugged his hand back, however Anders didn’t allow it. Shaking his head, Anders’ hand roamed along the wrists and then higher. The magic licked at the markings on his forearms. Lips tightened to a line. “He’s a monster….”

 

“You’re not making sense, Mage.” Having enough of the touches, Fenris yanked his hands back. 

 

“Danarius.” Anders supplied. Staring at his hands, “.... I know he was a monster before. Putting lyrium into you, abusing slaves, practicing blood magic and Maker knows what else he has done. But… To go to such an extent.” He sobbed and shook his head. “Darkspawn have more honor than that piece of-”

 

Anger flared within Fenris’ chest. Barking, “I don’t need your pity!” He didn’t want to hear Anders ranting. Danarius was his problem, not the mage’s. Certainly the man could understand that, right?

 

“Pity!?” Anders shot back. “I don’t pity you Fenris. Oh god, no. No, I don’t.” he sighed and rubbed at his face. “The lyrium isn’t just in your flesh Fenris….”

 

Fenris sat there, giving Anders a hostile look. He was confused by the words. The lyrium was in his flesh. He felt it. Looking down at the appendages, Fenris looked tried to understand what he meant.

 

“Bones, Fenris.” Anders said softly. “The bones were too small in your hands. He had to shatter them, inject the lyrium into marrow and rework it. The tissue is scarred from the inside. The bones…” He paused. The image didn’t need further explanation. “I’m surprised your hands could function normally.”

 

Fenris frowned, rubbing hands together. The earliest memories of pain stared with his hands. Then his feet. Peering down at the lower extremities, Fenris’ frown deepened. He didn’t like this. Hearing what Danarius has done to his body… It… 

 

“It’s wrong….” Anders whispered. Glancing over Fenris watched the mage. Rage shook underneath that thin frame. “That monster will get what he deserves. Never, will he or anyone that shares his ideals, would continue this... “

 

Fenris sighed heavily. “Danarius is mines to kill….”

 

Honey brown orbs stared into moss green ones. The fire within them was familiar. It was a hatred that could even rival against Fenris’ own. Anders’ lips quirked into a sarcastic smile. “So I get the leftovers?”

 

“There’s a lot of leftovers.” Fenris supplied with a rueful grin of his own. 

 

“Good. Leftovers will keep me busy after the main course.” Anders stood; blankets pooling to the floor. 

 

“Mmm. Main course…..” Fenris watched the mage cross the bedroom. He had to admire the broadness of the other man’s shoulders. It was nice to lay on that back. “That’s a lot of Templars you have to go through….”

 

Anders glanced over with a grin. “I’m certain you’d keep them busy with your fisting.”

 

Lips pursed to keep laughter at bay. “It's a shame I ran out of slick then.”

 

Anders laughter didn’t die down for minutes. Even hours laters the mage could be heard laughing over fisting and slick. 


	11. Influential opinions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris goes to confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I never played the exiled prince DLC. I hope Sebastian isn't too ooc in this chapter. I tried my best to wrap myself around the prince archer. ^^;
> 
> I'm also reallly happy that everyone is enjoying this! I know I suck at replying to comments. Mainly cause I don't know how to respond. T_T But I do read them! Over and over again and I just wanted to thank everyone! I just turn into a total spazz. 
> 
> Trigger warnings:  
> Alcohol use.

Several hours later found Fenris hiding in an alcove. Beside him was the notorious prince of Starkhaven. Around them was the Chantry’s courtyard and the icefall of hail. It was oddly relaxing. LIstening to the tiny crystals fall and the winds howling. If it weren’t for the thick bundles of wool, the men would most likely be miserable. However, at least they knew they would not be disturbed. Not many of Kirkwall’s citizens enjoyed being out in the hail. So, there was less risk of being overheard. 

 

“... I found out something about myself….” Fenris began, eyes aimed at the skies. Who’d think grey clouds could take on so many colors.

 

“What did you found out, if I may ask?” Sebastian’s accent seem thicker in the cold. 

 

Peeling his gaze from the heavens, Fenris stared at his hand. The news of his… condition was still being processed. He never gave a thought on how Danarius made his experiment possible. It seemed otherworldly now that he held some sort of information. Its as though reality broke around him. 

 

Fingers curled, trying to determine what felt normal and abnormal. Beside him Sebastian tried to suppress a cough. There was a hasty whisper of ‘excuse me,’ and Sebastian returned to his patient silence. A smile quirked at Fenris’ lips. Even when the Chantry brother was feeling unwell, Sebastian was all too ready to come for confession hours. Most likely caught the cold when helping some poor sod find shelter.

 

“The lyrium is apparently…. ah, how do I explain this…” Fenris frowned. Anders had said something. “It is injected, into the bone.”

 

Sebastian glanced over, brow raised. It was the only thing the Brother could do to mask his shock. Hand over mouth, another cough escaped. “How did you fall upon such information?”

 

Fenris reached into his satchel. Pulling out a flask, “The mage.” Liquor was offered to the Brother. 

 

Sebastian stared at the flask. Debating whether it was worth taking or not, the prince then sighed and accepted. A few sips and a grunt at the burn, “Switch to rye, did you?” Fenris nodded. Sebastian took another sip before the flask was handed back. “Thank you. Now, the mage, Anders, told you?”

 

Taking the flask, Fenris took a swing. The whisky warmed his chest. “Yes.” A pause. “He examined my hands as he would with internal wounds. Apparently they are scared from within and the lyrium is rooted into the bone.”

 

Across the courtyard, a lone guard could be seen on patrol. The crystals of ice pelted the armor. The odd rhythm made no sense. The metallic pings sang with a thousand voices and not one of them was unpleasant. It made an interest type of music with the usual icefall in the courtyard. 

 

“Poor lad must be frozen…” Sebastian muttered. Shifting his stance, a moment was given toward Fenris’ words. “How does this revelation make you feel?”

 

“Nothing.” The words escaped without thought. “It seems to… unreal to think. So I feel nothing for it. Nothing can undo it. Nor can it change my feelings on Danarius. My rage cannot go further when I know the pain is there… That, at least, I know is real.”

 

Fenris could see the prince nodding in the peripheral. A silence stretched between them. The information seem too raw to say aloud. Maybe he felt disturbed. Maybe it was the shock. Or he just didn’t want to believe it. 

 

Sighing, Fenris dragged a hand over his face. “Maybe it will change later…”

 

Sebastian nodded again. “Maybe. Maybe it will not. Only time will tell for this matter.”

 

Fenris nodded in agreement. 

 

“I take it that you been spending much time with… Anders?” 

 

The aloof tone had Fenris frowning. Sebastian was trying to keep neutral on the matter. Of course, both men shared high opinions on the good of the Circle and the Chantry’s say on how mages should be herded. Though, when it came to Anders and Merrill, there was mixed emotions. Primarily because it involved their loyalty to a specific mage, known as Hawke. 

 

So of course the topic of mages and where they belong was mixed up. Only because of their loyalty. 

 

“Yes.” Fenris said with a heavy sigh. “And you are aware as to why I am with him.”

 

“The promise.” Sebastian supplied. Before he could continue another wave of coughing fell upon the Brother. Clearing his throat, “Excuse me….” 

 

Fenris frowned. “It would best if we retire inside.” The winds were picking up, sending ice their way.

 

Waving off the concern, “It is nothing. Just a small cough.” Once more he cleared his throat. “Now, I asked because I inquired this morning about any patrols or raids made last night. Knight Captain Cullen reported that there had been none, however he is inquiring if any of the knights have made a trip into Darktown. I haven’t given him all the information, however….”

 

Fenris caught on. “There isn’t enough information on the matter. Just an imprint of a Templar boot….”

 

“Exactly.” There was another pause and then a sigh. “I hope that being in Anders’ company hasn’t... influence you in anyway…..”

 

That caused Fenris to frown. The memories of the morning came forth. Fenris could still remember the valley of scars under his touch. The pained voice of unwanted memories. Unfathomable rage of the abuse Miranda had endured and died from. 

 

Sebastian was only asking through ignorance more than experience. It was an innocent enough statement that an honor bound and devoted individual may make. Something that Fenris acknowledged. Even when he came around for confessions, Fenris knew that Sebastian couldn’t understand the full extent of what he had done. Of course he hadn’t spoken much of it. Only the lighter subjects. Even then, Sebastian never claimed to understand. He could only imagine or sympathise depending on the subject. 

 

So, of course Fenris took this in understanding that his friend meant no harm. It was asked out of concern, primarily due to belief and what little the Brother knew of Fenris. 

 

However, it did brought on a valid question. Was being in Anders company influencing his opinion on the matter? Yes, Fenris was enjoying the mage’s company for the past month. Even allowed himself to experience what it meant to be selfless. His own quirks have manifested and overruled the cold control he had over his life. Broke the silent nights with a purpose to give into charity. Emotion was involved when treating the poor and interacting with Anders. Emotions that weren’t blinded rage and annoyance.

 

Was Fenris being influenced? 

 

No. He wasn’t being influenced. But, he wasn’t as bias as he used to be. The bigotry he once held close was slowly chipping away. Was it due to Anders? No. Not entirely. However his views on the man was still…. puzzling. 

 

Sighing, Fenris ran a hand through his snowy locks. “No….” the admission sounded hollow. “However… Since coming to Kirkwall and dealing with certain events, specifically in a form of a very loud and witty woman, my views have… shifted. To a more…” A hand grasped at air, gaze shifted up to the heavens, trying to form the words. “.... Grey tone.”

 

Sebastian hummed softly. Whether in agreement or disagreement, it was unsure. “I see... Well…” there was a pause for more coughing. “I can certainly understand. Not everything can be black and white. The only thing I ask for is for this incident not be taken out of…. proportion.” 

 

Lips curled back in anger. “Out of proportion? Sebastian, a woman and her unbo-”

 

“I know Fenris.” Sebastian grounded out. “I know and I have heard. A woman and child was murdered.”

 

“Then why would you say that? Request such… an audacious thing?!” Fenris argued back.

 

“Because we do not know the truth.” The tone was kept even, controlled, despite the emotional state the man was in. “Do you believe me so callous to not understand unjust murder? Me? A man who had lost their family to murder. I know this fury and the betrayal of injustice. You have no idea, how much I wish I could confront the murderers myself. But I cannot, not till I can separate the fiction from the truth.”

 

Fenris’ glare lessened. Taking in the words and the logic, all the elf can do was give a curt nod. “... I apologize. I misunderstood.”

 

“Nothing to fret over.” Sebastian smiled and glanced out to the courtyard. “I will admit, it was a poor choice of words.”

 

Fenris nodded. “It was. However, now I understand. The incident is delicate and I am sure it would dangle on a fine line, especially with the Mage involved.” 

 

“To make it more grim, we are unsure if the perpetrator was indeed a Templar knight. Or, if it was a crime of hate that Anders painted.” Sebastian sighed heavily and rubbed at the back of his neck. Faintly, Fenris heard a prayer muttered underneath the priest’s breath.

 

“Fasta vass.” Fenris hissed out. Even he had to admit that the logic made sense. Rational was not his strong suit last night. Invested emotions was the reason for being influenced in this matter. Mulling over the information for the moment, “... For now, all we can lead on is someone beaten a bearing mother into abortion and then death.”

 

Sebastian nodded. “Yes. The boot mark is only a piece to this puzzle. At least till we get more information…”

 

“Its still a lead…” 

 

“A lead that was followed, until further notice. For now, we should try find information on where and what lead to their beating.”

 

Fenris nodded. “I’m certain someone’s lips will flap for spare bits.”

 

Sebastian struggled to laugh between coughs. “That sounded wrong. Do you ever think before speaking Fenris?”

 

Smirking, “It's known to happen.” Then on a serious note, “What we said, it should stay between us. I am unsure if…”

 

Sebastian nodded, “Say no more. Anders is already riled up enough as it is with the demon he harbors. There should be no need to include the ladies yet. They…” Sebastian trailed off into an uncomfortable silence. “Only the Maker will be our witness today.”

 

Fenris nodded. Sebastian’s coughing became more violent. Frowning at this, “We’ve said enough on the matter. Now begone with you, or else I will have the wraith of your Grand Cleric and the Maker for worsening your cold.”

 

Sebastian waved Fenris’ concern off. “I will be fin-”

 

The flask was shoved into Sebastian’s hand. “Certainly your Chantry should have garlic cloves and lemons. You should know the remedy to cure that obnoxious cough.”

 

Fenris spent the next hours fretting over Sebastian and making sure that his friend was taken care of. Maybe, after all, Anders did influenced Fenris. 


	12. Quirks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is gruesomely heroic tonight. Best tell a story over some apple pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
> Pulling out body parts? Its the only way I can describe this without ruining much. ^^'

“Can’t say I can recall much…. Not enough motivation.”

 

How many times did Fenris hear that? Way too many. He wasn’t even certain his coin would get him proper information from the street urchins. All sources stated that they saw Miranda, but no one would give proper information on what happened that night. Certainly there was someone that seen what happened to the woman. She frequented the poor districts often. 

 

Looking over the snotty child, Fenris frowned. The weather was getting worse and he was already agitated by the fact he had to wear boots. The soddy piece of…. footwear was an insult to his freedom. Didn’t the Maker know how sensitive his feet were? Of course he knew. Most likely punishing him for something he had done as a child. Whatever it could be, Fenris had no clue.

 

Shaking his head, “I’ll only pay up if it's actually worth my coin.” 

 

The child was too eager to spin a tale of how the half elf mother whored herself to some of the harbor men. It was old information that was already checked on. Miranda had offered herself to the men, only to make some coin and possibly find a warm place for a night. The men were obviously not Templars. One seem most likely to die due to illness of asthma before he could pick up a sword and battle demons. 

 

The child was spared with a withering glare and a nasty retort of how time was wasted on useless repetition. Also known as, no coin for you. 

 

Rubbing his face, Fenris turned. His mind went to recent events. News revolving around the child and Miranda’s death seem to matter very little. A few had came to the small funeral. Merrill had given the last rite. Apparently the blood witch known of the half elf and had expressed how she held a firm belief of the Elven creators. Anders had supported this fact, thus diminishing any doubt. 

 

Though, Fenris couldn’t help but have a nagging thought that Merrill’s beliefs over the incident drove the witch to do what she can for her community. Due to mutual agreement, no one was to spead the word of how Miranda and her child was murdered. The news would only get a crowd riled up and rumors to spread. Surprisingly, it was Anders that put this logical thought forward. Something Fenris was too happy to agree too. 

 

Ever since then, Fenris had made quite inquires. All knew that he seek out the murderer. Not many seem to care about some Darktown childbearing whore. More so since it was a halfbreed. The only thing they care for was how to take a profitable situation to their advantage. Sadly, it turned out to be more difficult to sort through the lies from truth. 

 

“Wait!” The urchin called out. “B’fore you go.”

 

Fenris stop, brandings itching to be turned on. You could never be so careless around anyone during nightfall. Even the most innocent of children could be deadly. He gave the child a glance. Raising a brow, he grunted a soft, “You have my attention.”

 

“There’s been some weird man hanging around Darktown. Cloaked, massive and walks with a limp. Me pa mention that he ain’t felt such an uneasy since the blight came to Loithering.”

 

Fenris frowned, taking in the information. Pursing his lips, “Why are you telling me this?”

 

“Cause I see you with the Healer. Seen ‘im lurking when lanterns are gone.” 

 

The serious tone held the utmost honesty. On top of that, logic told Fenris that any rumor or odd occurrences that revolved around Anders and his clinic was not to be taken in jest. The poor knew what Anders meant to their community. Regardless of rivalry or past grudges, no one dare to cross the healer. If someone dare to be foolish enough the community had no problem ratting out the folly.

 

“When has this man first appeared?”

 

The boy frowned, trying to remember. “Start of winter.”

 

How did Fenris miss this detail? Certainly he wasn’t so lax around the Mage and his clinic that he couldn’t see a threat like this. Lanterns out or not, this wasn’t something that could be easily missed. Fenis cursed at his own carelessness. 

 

A silver was produced and tossed toward the child. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

 

Fenris left the child in their own glee. The information, be it useful or not, was worth checking on. Who knows, maybe it was connected to Miranda and her child. Though Fenris doubted that such a connection could be forge. For now the elf concentrated on how to evaluate the information. If it was to be a threat, it was to be neutralized. There was a possibility of it being someone needing help. However that seem unlikely. 

 

The child’s admission of what his father had described the unknown figure rang in his mind. What was it? An uneasiness that could be compared to the blight. That didn’t settle too well in Fenris’ gut. 

 

A particular harsh wind cut through the many thick layers of wool and leather. Stilling his chattering teeth, Fenris rushed through the many streets. With how late it was, maybe he can get a chance to see if this Lurker. And warm up by a hearth.

 

Sadly there was no Lurker when Fenris arrived. Just extinguished lanterns and a locked door. Since he was here, he’d at least check on the Mage. Make sure he wasn’t working himself to death. That seem totally reasonable, right?

 

Fenris stilled, staring at the door. Was he really making excuses for himself? For his behavior around the Mage? Certainly he can be a bit slow when it came acknowledging what it was that he felt. But… He wasn’t  _ that _ slow. Its obvious their rivalry had turn into a companionship. The only dignity Fenris had on the matter was the fact that Anders was his charge. At least till the arrival of Hawke. After that…

 

The thought was shoved aside. He wasn’t here to diddle daddle with a thumb up his ass. Lyrium awoken, casting an eerie glow in the despaired corner of Darktown. Hand phased through the door, fiddling with the locks and thus gaining entry into clinic. This had become a recent development in habit. After awakening the Mage from his small bits of sleep an argument had lead to this kind solution. 

 

Fenris still chuckled at Anders’ shock when he learned of the most convenient way of picking a lock. 

 

Lyrium died down and shadows shrouded the area once more. Opening the door a crack, Fenris had slipped inside and silent locked the door. If Anders was indeed asleep, then he would prefer to avoid rousing the man. He was exhausted enough as it was. 

 

“-u owe us a lot of coin Healer.”

 

Fenris’ ears perked up. Looking across the shoddy clinic. Three dwarves, armed to the teeth with weapons and armor. Carta. Brows knitted as Fenris took care with his steps. They were here during lights out. So that meant the Lurker was most likely a Carta spy. 

 

Fenris huffed and shook his head. Now it made sense to him. Slinking to the shadows like a cat, Fenris listened to the exchange. Best wait for a proper strike. Maybe give them a nice scare. 

 

“I am aware of that Rorkin.” A single candlelight was seen. A warm glow was casted upon the Mage, enhancing the man’s handsome features. As well as his weariness. 

 

“The boss isn’t happy Healer. No matter the good you do, he can’t ignore empty pockets when you get all that lovey medicine.” The dwarf speaking was the closest to Anders. The other two just watched, listened and posed ready to slaughter at any given moment. 

 

Agitation twitched at Anders’ brow. Fenris could feel the magic dancing on the mage’s fingertips. These dwarves were either fools or way too confident in their skills. Surly they knew better than to cross the Healer. Fenris smirked as he watched Anders’ hands as they itched toward his staff. A shiver ran down Fenris’ spine as he recalled those hands. It just a few days ago that he was play with them.

 

Fenris frowned at the direction his mind abruptly went. 

 

“Your boss will get his coin, within due time. I just ask that he be patient. A sickness is spreading acro-”

 

“We don’t give a damn!” The dwarf - Rorkin as Anders named him - slammed a fist onto one of the many beams that held the clinic up. The blow had caused the beam to splinter, shuddering against the weight of the ceiling. “The boss wants his money Mage. So either you upturn those pockets or we hand you over to the Templars.”

 

Fenris heard enough at this point. The silent steps lead him to the guards. The eerie glow went unnoticed as his hand slip through their backs. The only sound that escaped the pair was a pain muffle of fear. No words could describe the horror of having a hand pushed through, a vital organ in hand, appearing through their sternum. 

 

The faint tinkling of two grown men pissing themselves was heard.

 

“What th-” Rorkin spun around and stared in shock. 

 

It gave Anders a moment to reach for his staff. The weapon was wielded with sure hands and the blade directed at the back of Rorkin’s neck. Any moment to pull out a weapon had stop. Instead hands were raised in surrender. 

 

“Now, now Boys.” Rorkin grounded out through clenched teeth. “Certainly we can talk this through…”

 

“Ror…” One of the dwarves whimpered. No more could be said as the man hyperventilated. The organ pump faster in Fenris’ palm. The other dwarf seen this and his own heart mirrored the action.

 

“We’ll start with you telling your boss that he would be practice patience when receiving coin.” Fenris rumbled out. The organ were struggling to hold onto arteries. The vessels constricted, obviously still functioning outside its host's body. “Or else he would have the pleasure to endure this lovely experience. You boys can tell Rorkin here how wonderful it must feel.”

 

The pain gasps were accompanied by blabbering pleads to be released. 

 

Rorkin paled, realizing that he was not to leave so easily. “Whoa there! Okay! Okay, you got my cooperation Elf. Just put it back together and…” Anders pushed the blade deeper against the Dwarf’s neck. Fear shook the stout form. “We’ll go tell the boss! We’ll let him know you’re word is good!”

 

Fenris smirked at the quivering man. Organs were placed back to their rightful place. Or at least that was what the Dwarves should hope for. Fenris wasn’t a healer after all.

 

Wiping the residue onto their back, “Good to know we have an understanding. Next time this happens, I’ll experiment with tiny pieces of your brain.” Fenris step away, hand on the hilt of his blade. Fenris have never been so amused at the sight of short men scurrying in fear. It was impossible to hide his laughter. 

 

“Their hearts would most likely give out at the end of the hour.” Anders rumbled with a sigh. Shaking his head, he then turned toward Fenris. “... I am unsure if I should thank you for such a gruesome display of heroism.” 

 

Scoffing at the words, “Only for you, my damsel in distress.” Fenris’ teasing tone brought a lovely shade of red onto Anders’ furry cheeks.

 

“Oh, ha-ha.” Anders shook his head and waved his hand. Magic was felt in the air. Distantly, locks clicked at the door. “I swear, the nerve of you. I’m not some drafted princess. Damn blighted elf and his ever timely arrivals…” 

 

Fenris chuckled deeply as he watched Anders walk toward the depths of his closet sized nest of a bedroom. It was indeed perfect timing. If he had not been there, no doubtedly, Anders would have been left with three corpses to dispose of. The situation would only worsen then. 

 

“The Carta will back.” Fenris called out. “They don’t take kindly to debts. Even more so when threats are used for payment.”

 

From behind the curtain, Anders was heard sighing. “I know, however…. Finding coin without Hawke’s odd jobs is hard to find.”

 

“Have you tried asking Aveline?” Fenris walked toward the damaged beam. A small creak could be heard through the strain. Staring at it, Fenris was unsure what could be done about this.

 

“No.” Anders emerged from his hole. “I will have to put a brace onto that…”

 

“A brace?” Fenris frowned, wondering how that would work. Anders could be felt passing by him from behind. 

 

“Yes. It’ll realign and hold the beam in place. At least till it can be properly fixed. I’m certain Sarah can help me with that. But enough of that, come here. I have something for you.”

 

Fenris blinked, ears twitching. The mage had something for him? Most likely some new material to go over or a request to fill out. Turning, Fenris made his way toward the the rickety desk. Kindle was seen burning, bringing life to the hearth. The faint use of magic was still in the air, however it no longer bothered Fenris as it use too. When they were alone, together, the magic cast was more mindful and had a gentle touch to it. If that made any sense.

 

His nose tickled at a pleasant aroma. Mouth watered along with recognition. Fenris was too eager to approach Anders’ side. 

 

“Apple pie.” Fenris muttered underneath his breath as he leaned against the desk. 

 

Anders held the small iron skillet with oven mitts. The small treat was recently made and by the smell of it it, still fresh. Not hot out of the oven fresh. But it was nothing a simple heat spell couldn’t fix. Placing the treat onto the table, it was pushed toward Fenris. A fork was then placed beside it. 

 

“I was going to save it for the morning, but since you’re here now….” Anders wringed his fingers together. “Wouldn’t be proper timing if I waited till morning. Plus, it would get stale. Apparently stasis spells aren’t my strong suit. But, hey, great timing!”

 

Fenris stared at the treat, unsure what to make all of it. He only came to the clinic to check on the stupid mage. Instead he got…. this. A smile tugged at his lips. A kind, open smile. Shaking his head, “Finally got fed up with me mage? What poison did you use?”

 

Anders blistered, angry retorts readied to be fired. Whatever was to be said died as Fenris picked up the fork and began to cut into the crust. It took a moment before the mage realized that Fenris was cracking a joke. Shoulders relaxed, “No, you drafted elf… I am simply expressing my gratitude.”

 

Scooping up a piece, Fenris did not hesitate to take a bite. The taste was just as divine to its smell. It was fresh. More than just fresh. It was though it never truly chilled and staled in the dank air of Darktown. Not too sweet and not too dull. How ever did Anders know that he enjoy the sharp taste of cinnamon and cloves, Fenris was unable to tell. In all, it was a perfect combination that melted in his mouth. 

 

And Anders was staring intently at Fenris. Waiting in pure anticipation, or so it would appear. 

 

Smirking, Fenris cut out another piece. Scooping it onto the fork, it was held out toward Anders. The blond man blinked, unsure what to do. Slowly he frowned, “It's… yours to eat. Unless it tastes horrible. Oh, Maker, it does taste horrible.” 

 

Raising a dark brow, “No. It does not taste horrible. It’s …. perfect.” The words sound lame, but it was the truth.

 

The truth that Anders didn’t seem to accept. He just stared at the offering. Fenris just pushed it against Anders’ lips, obviously amused by the mage’s stubbornness. He really shouldn’t be amused by this. But sadly, he was. 

 

With a wide smirk, “My gift, yes? Humor me Mage.”

 

Honey gold eyes rolled and finally accepted his faith. Silent glee spread within Fenris’ chest as he watched Anders eat. Another scoop was dug out and offered to the mage. Again, Anders ate.

 

“You have odd quirks, Elf.” Anders said between bites. 

 

Taking a bite himself, Fenris hummed for Anders to elaborate. 

 

“You’re always watching people eating.” Pulling at his hair tie, blond hairs fell. The long strands now reached to his shoulders. “You always seem so pleased. I swear I’d think it was a hallucination, but there you are, watching people eat with the most kind smile ever. All the time, for the weekly feedings.”

 

Fenris pursed his lips, thinking if he should explain this quirk of his. It was one of the few pleasures that Fenris enjoyed as a freeman. It boggled his mind that it did, but it was easily understood. Another piece of pie was offered to Anders.

 

“... I noticed, for some time, you’re conditioned to ignore starvation.” Anders frowned between chewing. “I, know very well, how that condition could be used for torture… I suspect that it was through the Circle that you experienced this. Before I never bothered to give it mind, but now…”

 

Fenris trailed off, thinking to change the subject instead. “Hadrianna…. Maker, she was… a blight in itself. Calling her a bitch would be an understatement, so blight should be a colorful picture.” Fenris paused to take a bite of pie. Chewing thoughtfully, “... She’d badger my rest, hound me constantly and try everything her power to torment me without physically scarring my skin. Or else she would be under her mentor’s ire….

 

“My meals were denied, a lot, when she was near by. It was difficult as it was easy to ignore the need to eat. Until I had to watch her or some other guest enjoy a feast. Hunger pains kept coming back, even after days after watching her….”

 

Another piece was scooped out. Anders ate, silently listening, warm orbs kept onto Fenris’ form. 

 

“Most slaves rarely interacted with me.... I was a wild animal, compared to the docile sorts. However, there was one. A cook’s daughter, Orana.” A kind smile graced Fenris’ lips as he thought on the timid elf. “She was a gem in that void…. She would often come with food. At first I’d yell and threatened her. Did whatever I could do get her to leave. She was not worth a whipping. But she still came around. Bread, water, sometimes a bowl of broth. During those times, she was an angel sent by the Maker. Other times, a timid shadow within the mansion.”

 

Getting lost in his story, Fenris stared at the hearth. He was no longer feeding Anders or even himself. “... There was a party. It was a rare moment when my presences would not be welcomed, so I was left to rot. Orana came with food, stolen from the kitchen. I had to argue. It was the right thing to do. But then she shoved an apple into my mouth…

 

“We ended up speaking for hours after that. Just treating ourselves on stolen food. Of course our stomachs revolted to such fine food, but… it was nice. Too nice.” 

 

Turning back to the apple pie, Fenris pierced an apple slice. Offering it to Anders, “So, in answer to your observation, yes I have an odd quirk. I enjoy watching people enjoy a good meal. More so to those that were denied such meals. They deserve the kindness that a full belly could bring.”

 

Anders took the apple, chewing slowly. “Welp, guess I’m in trouble now…” 

 

Fenris took a moment admire the mage. Firelight danced shadows on the other man’s features. The soft glow from before came back. Blond strands just seem to glow in the dim light. Relaxed and calm, Fenris swore he never seen anyone look so beautiful in his life till that moment. Just having those gold, honey orbs on him was an experience in itself. The familiar warmth that was once received from another couldn’t mimic the intensity. The warmth was kept close to his heart. There was no reason to allow fear to interfere.

 

The smile never left Fenris’ lips. “Yes… You are in trouble now. Aren’t you Mage?”

 


	13. Not even a nug?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris dislikes beards. Nuff said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to be honest, I feared that I already burned myself out when trying to get this chapter out. However I got back on track! Within a timely manner. Hopefully I won't get burned out again so fast. XD
> 
> Trigger warnings:   
> None. Tis all safe. Unless you hate beard bashing.

A single ball of light illuminated the slick walls. The source of the light was cast above from a crystal globe. It sat on a staff made of fine, polished yet worn wood. It was obvious that the staff was well taken care of. More so than it’s owner. 

 

Shadows danced as the mage lead the way. The tunnel was old and decrepit. The brickwork had long since been cracked with age. Moss and fungi grew in such an abundance here that it made Fenris’ mansion seem like a palace. 

 

Crazy talk, right?

 

And yet, here was Fenris, sloshing through thick cold sewage and shit. 

 

Crinkling his nose in disgust, a glare was sent at the back of a certain blondes head. He just had to listen to the man prattle on about a sick patient. They had to check on what's-their-face. She was old, couldn’t move and sick, or so the Mage said. Obviously she was sick! She was living in this dump. Or at least she lived on the other side of this sewer. Which, at the moment, happened to be the only way to where that old woman lived… or was it a man? 

 

Fenris must be a masochist for mages. That could be the only explanation. Certainly he could admit that he was enjoying the mage’s company more and more with every passing day. Even held a few peaceful conversations with the man. There was also that distant memory of cuddling with Anders. Oh, how he longed to have another moment like that. 

 

Maybe, in his sick twisted mind, Fenris thought that he could get another moment like that. Allow himself to be punished in hope of some glorious reward. It was the only possible explanation that he bothered to listen to Anders this morning. 

 

Fenris couldn’t even remember what Anders said that morning. He was too busy getting lost in that damned mage’s eyes. Warm like honey with an irresistible pout. Of course Fenris couldn’t resist. Till his eyes caught onto the growing beard. It didn’t look bad on the man. With his strong jaw line and cheekbones, the sullen look was hidden underneath the coarse hairs. However, at the end of the day, it was a beard. Beards always look bad. At least that was his bias opinion. 

 

Beards always reminded Fenris of Danarius. Granted, Anders’ facial hair was neatly groomed and taken care of. It didn’t represent the ratty mat of neck hairs that his former master owned. No matter what the old Magister did, he could never achieve a silky texture. 

 

An involuntary shudder coursed through Fenris. It's been years since his escape and the memory was as fresh as yesterday morning.

 

“You can stop brooding, you know.”  Anders broke Fenris’ line of thought. The elf wasn't sure if he was grateful or not for the distraction.

 

“Explain why we’re swimming through shit again?” Fenris accepted the distraction. Even more so when he the bottom of his boot step onto something squishy. Squishier than the normal squish, considering they’re walking thigh deep in sewage. Well, Anders was thigh deep. Fenris’ balls were buried up into his gut. 

 

Sighing, Anders glanced over his shoulder to give the elf a weary glare. “Really? If I didn’t know better I’d think you’re starting to get distracted by my good looks.”

 

A blush creep up Fenris’ cheeks. Thankful for the darkness, the elf shot a glare at the mage. “I was distracted by that hideous mat on your face.” 

 

Anders huffed loudly. Stomping ahead, “Of course the elf would say that. Its very common of male elves to be jealous of human and dwarven men for their beards.” 

 

There was a pause in step. Jealous? Of growing hair on his face? 

 

The idea was so ludicrous and almost believable - if he actually did like beards to begin with. Then again, the image of him having a ridiculous growth on his own chin came to mind. Of all the beards he seen mortal and dwarven men have, Fenris would have become an jester for the King of Ferelden if could sprout one like those he had seen. 

 

As sudden as his lack of sloshing, a laughter came upon the elf. It started deep within his belly and bursted out like a fired cannon. If it weren’t for the chilling reminder that his feet was in sewage, Fenris would most likely have collapsed and rolled in the dirt. He was barely aware of the fact that Anders stood there, slack jaw and gawking at the mad laughing elf. 

 

Shaking his head, the laughter died into a chuckle. Willing his feet forward, a heavy hand laid on Anders’ shoulder. The man tensed underneath the touch. Fenris could see uncertainty in the man’s gaze. 

 

Smirking, “Yes Mage. I’ve always dreamed of the day that I would grow my own, flowing mat of chin hairs. Grow it so long and luscious that it woo every man and woman throughout thedas. The Divine herself would order that the Chant of Light would be revised. Only to speak of my wonderful chin locks of hair. Children would weave flowers into my beard. Even braid it, if I dare asked for it.”

 

Anders sucked at his lower lip. Teeth bit at the edge, trying desperately not crack into a smile. Shoulders shook as the mage tried to deny his laughter. Leaning heavily onto his staff, Anders laughed. 

 

“Oh sweet Andraste and her fucken tits.” Shaking his head. “Admit it though. The look would suit you wonderfully. Most likely stroke those lovely flowing chin hairs during your brooding seasons.”

 

Smirking at the man, Fenris’ gaze drifted to the waters. From afar a few rats could be seen swimming ahead with much haste. Disgusted with the waters, Fenris began to move. “I just dislike beards is all….” 

 

Anders could be heard chuckling. “I’ll add that onto the ever growing list of what Fenris hates. Right underneath mages. Maybe beards are more hated than mages? I could only hope so.” 

 

Fenris couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. “That could be debatable.”

 

“Oh? Please, do elaborate.” Anders sloshing was sluggish and echoed through the open cavern. 

 

Fenris’ ears twitched at the echo bouncing off the walls. A glance over his shoulder revealed Anders, his staff and the empty darkness. He could hear Anders’ movement bouncing off the walls with an off beat. Odd.

 

“Mages with beards.” Was muttered off hand.

 

“Really?” Anders huffed in annoyance. Shouldering past Fenris, “Of course you’d say that. I swear Elf, you have the weirdest quirks ever. Hating my-”

 

The rest of Anders’ rambling was ignored. 

 

Fenris felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Something felt amiss in the tunnel. He couldn’t understand what exactly what it was. But something told him something wasn’t right. It was there, a tension in his gut. The sort of tension that kept Fenris alive for most of his remembered life.

 

But nothing could be seen or heard, besides the blabbering mage. 

 

Ears twitched, strain to hear anything. Fenris was tempted to close his eyes and concentrate. But he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the neverending darkness. He kept still, listening to the echoing of Anders’ movement and the nothingness beyond that. 

 

The tension tightened in Fenris’ gut. A light from behind casted Fenris’ shadow forward. The elf barely took note of it as he continued to stare ahead. Paranoia whispered into his mind. It was a sweet thing that warned him that he was to be followed. Something was out there, watching and waiting. Why else would it be so still? Why else would h-

 

Something grasped his shoulder. 

 

Spinning around, water splashed at the quick movement. Gauntlet covered hands grasped at the hold on his shoulder. A startled gasp of pain. Something falling into the waters. An eerie glow reflected from the waters. And, recognition of what held onto him. 

 

“What the fuck Fenris!?” Anders hissed, trying to pull his hand out of the grasp.

 

The hold was released with such haste, you’d think Fenris was burned by the contact. In truth he was more worried about breaking something in the mage’s hand than being burned. Anders seem happy to be out of the grip. Instantly he rubbed at the abused flesh.

 

Guilt burned in his chest.

 

“.... I… am sorry.” A flash of anger flared within. Fenris bit at his tongue so he could control himself. It was the mage’s fault for surprising him like that. At the same time it was his own fault too. Being distracted by the darkness around them. 

 

Anders said nothing as he nursed the injured hand with magic. Flexing his grip, “Can’t blame you. You were rather… focused….”

 

Kneeling, Fenris reached into the thick waters. Ignoring the icy chill and the feel of disgust, fingers searched for the staff. Shifting waters made it hard to see where the magical item laid. 

 

“I felt something amiss…” Fenris explained. There was a pause in movement. “.... Can you… feel anything up ahead?” 

 

“Feel?” Anders blinked at the elf. “Like with magic?”

 

There was a moment of awkwardness. Fenris realized that he was better off wearing a dunce hat for the hypocritical request. Anders on the other hand… He seem as though the request was too serious to take and struggled to keep a serious air about him. If it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation, Fenris wouldn’t have bothered. However they have spent enough time as it was in the cold waters and… Fenris had to admit that magic had its uses at the moment. 

 

“Yes, yes. I’m the walking black kettle.” Fenris grounded out with much humility. Hands continued their search in the waters. Something to distract him from his moment of weakness. “The quicker it's done then the quicker we can go and seek out your patient.”

 

The mentioning of Anders’ patient got the man to sober up. Nodding, he closed his eyes and the feel of magic prickled at Fenris’ lyrium lines. The so called handsome face was no scrunched up in concentration. Anders sucked at his teeth. Something he did when confused.

 

“What am I looking for, Fenris?”

 

The elf frowned, unsure how to answer that. “.... Something alive?” Was whispered. “I… believe we are being followed.”

 

Anders hummed, eyes still closed. The magic pulsed out of him. Fenris swore he could have seen the tendrils of white wisps reaching out; seeking for what Fenris requested. This went on for a few moments before the tingling stop. 

 

Slowly, Anders shook his head. Strands of hair came loose from the movement. “There’s nothing there Fenris. Absolutely nothing….”

 

The elf couldn’t help but be unnerved by this. “Not even a nug?” He couldn’t help but joke. Maybe it was his paranoia playing with him. With the tunnel being cold, dark and very toxic, it shouldn’t be a surprise to him… right?

 

Distantly, they heard something sloshing through the water. It was such a tiny movement that could have easily been missed during their own movements. But now, in the silence, both men heard it. 

 

Anders gave Fenris an equally disturbed look. “.... No… Not even a nug….” 


End file.
